Page 109 of Class Clown

I pulled a face. “It’s suspect.”

“Why?”

“Arguing is healthy. If you don’t have a difference of opinion sometimes then what does that mean?”

“We have differences of opinion all the time, Bee. Like your gas tank, and your fuel light. I don’t know why you let it get that low.”

“True.”

“That movie we watched last weekend was not my cup of tea.”

I gasped. “How dare you. That was the best historical romance I’ve seen in ages.”

He shrugged. “See, difference of opinion.”

I frowned. “We didn’t argue about it, though. You just snuggled in and watched it without complaint. Are you afraid to speak your truth?”

He shook his head. “No. I care more about snuggling with you than what we’re watching. It’s not worth fighting over.”

“I bet that changes after the infatuation stage ends. Pretty soon you’ll be wanting to listen to National Public Radio every time we’re in the car and I’ll wonder where your love for pop rock went.” I stirred up my big bowl of ravioli, stabbing a few with my fork.

“Why am I the one turning into a bore here?” he asked, his lips ticking up in amusement.

“Good point. I’m older. No wonder I made you watch a historical romance. Next thing you know, I’ll be making you sit through reruns ofThe Andy Griffith Showand talking about kids these days. And, because we don’t argue, you’ll sit there and take it. You need to stand up for yourself more.”

“Bee, you need to stop assuming I’m sucking it up and keeping it to myself. What if I do not care? What if I don’t have a strong opinion on the matter?”

I reached across the table to take his hand. “Were you raised in a home where no one valued your opinion and so you learned to people please?”

He set his fork down and sighed. “Ruby, love, I don’t want to fight with you. I want to laugh with you, and watch stupid shows with you, and kiss you as soon as I get off work. And I want to take you to dinner, and not have you worry that there’s hurt in our future.” He turned his hand over to take my fingers in his. “I want you to trust me.”

“I do trust you.”

“Then the next time your friends tell you about their arguments, be grateful that we get along so easily.”

I bit my lip. “Can I lie? Maybe make up a fight, you know, so that I fit in?”

He tamped down on a smile. “If you need to. But make it small, because your friends will not be shy about putting me in my place if you exaggerate too much.” I nodded. “Hypothetically, what would you tell them we fought about?”

I pursed my lips and shrugged. “I have no idea.”

We both went back to eating, releasing our held hands to cut our food and I thought about it. A few minutes later I tapped the tabletop, making him look up quickly, mid-bite.

“I’ve got it. We argue about your riding a motorcycle.”

He frowned. “You don’t like it?”

I shook my head. “I’m a nurse, it’s dangerous, I love your head in one piece.”

“Okay, but are you saying this is what you’d tell your friends, or that you truly don’t like me riding a bike?”

“Probably a mix. It is dangerous, but you’re also really manly in your gear and I don’t hate seeing you pull up on it.”

“Alright. That’s ok to tell your friends.”

He went back to eating, but I came up with another idea. “When to get married.”

His eyes grew big this time. “What?”

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