Page 35 of Ordinary Secrets

“My grandparents and I have moved around every year since I was little, so I kind of grew up everywhere.”

Trey merges between two trucks, then into the left lane. “I see. What are your grandparents’ names?”

“Phil and Roxy.”

“Last name?”

I’m not sure why their last name matters. I tell him anyway. “Ward. How about you? Where did you grow up?”

“Three Rivers. It’s near Fresno.”

“Did you go to college there?”

He keeps his gaze aimed out the windshield. “Nah. I never went to college. You?”

“I studied early childhood education at UCLA. Originally, I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. Then I realized my passion is baking. I want to have my own bakery someday. I already have a name picked out.”

“Which is?”

“A Slice A Day.” Just saying it out loud gets me excited, even though the reality of that dream is so far away.

“What do you like to bake?”

I can’t believe he’s actually asking questions about me right now. More so, I can’t believe he’s not trying to tell me stuff about himself that he thinks will impress me. I thought that was a first-date standard for men. “I do it all. Mostly cakes and cupcakes, because I love to decorate.”

“I’d love to see some of your work.”

I perk up. “I’ve got a blog you could check out.”

“That’s cool. Could you send me the link? I can take a look later.”

“Sure.” I’ll text him my link, but I have no confidence that he’ll ever enter my website. Trey doesn’t strike me as a man with an interest in cake decorating.

“When did you start baking?”

I spiral into my story of getting my first Easy-Bake Oven and always helping Grammy in the kitchen. Trey listens with nods, asking the occasional follow-up question. I can’t remember the last time I spoke this long without a man interrupting me. Usually, I don’t even talk this much. With Trey, I can’t stop. Although I could go on and on about baking.

“Enough about me,” I say a while later. “Tell me about your hobbies.”

“I don’t have any.”

I eye him. “You play music.”

“Yeah, but it’s also my career, so does it still count as a hobby?”

“What about your nonprofit organization? Is that a hobby for you?”

Trey turns his head to stare at me. “How do you know I have one?”

“Oh, I—um, I might have . . . Googled you.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head at me. “Don’t believe half the shit you read.”

“You don’t have a nonprofit?”

“I do, but the rest is trash.”

I twist at the hip to face him. “Like what?”

---