Page 61 of How You See Me
“Okay. A lot.”
He nods in agreement.
“I won’t tell him about the bar or bathing incidents, if you won’t.”
“There’s no way in hell.”
“Then it’s settled. That secret and our concert date stay here.” I reach out my pinky to seal the deal.
“It’s not a date.”
“Sure, it’s not, Cowboy.”
With an eye roll, he surrenders and hooks his finger around mine. I’ll take that as a victory.
_____
After showering, we pack a picnic and head toward the field behind the RV park. Hayes walks in weaving patterns, occasionally picking up a rock, examining it, then tossing it aside.
“What are you doing?”
His head whips to me like he forgot I was here. “Nothing.” His tone is edged, his expression already shuttering into that broody librarian mode he wears all too well.
I know how to take care of that. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”
He scowls at me like I asked him to explain quantum physics or something equally as hard. “Really?”
“You’re clearly not in a talkative mood, and I hate silence. Asking questions is how I problem-solve.”
“How is asking random questions solving a problem?”
I bump my shoulder against his arm, but his stone-like body doesn’t shift an inch. “You’re talking to me now, aren’t ya?”
“Fine.” He sighs. “Neapolitan.”
“Eww. Really? You like your ice cream indecisive?”
“And drowned in caramel syrup and topped with nuts. Nothing beats a sundae.” He bends to pick up another rock, rolls it over in his hand, drops it. “If there was only ice cream available, no cake, what flavor would you get?”
“Vanilla.”
“You’re lying.”
“Nope.”
“You like rainbow sprinkles in your cake. And not the normal cake for sprinkles. You go all weird with red velvet. Isn’t that the same thing as my crazy sundae?”
“Not even a little bit. All the sprinkles taste the same. They’re just added sugar, not flavor. And vanilla is—”
“Ordinary. It goes against everything I know about you.”
“Does it make you feel better to hear that I prefer waffle cones over sugar cones?”
“No.” He almost smiles. Almost. It’s subtle, but still affects me like his full-blown version would.
I’m all fireworks and sizzle over here.
We fall into a comfortable-ish quiet until I step on something hard and round. Lifting my boot, I lean down to collect the tan and white striped rock. It reminds me of caramel swirls in vanilla ice cream. A mix of our two favorites.
