“That was a bad choice,” I agree and we both laugh.
“I think I’m going to stick with the mild. If I have any taste buds left.” I wasn’t sure if I had any either.
We shared the mild salsa and finished our tacos before splitting a piece of chocolate cake.
“I’m so full, I don’t want to move,” she says, leaning back in her chair.
“Same here. And I’m pretty sure it’s going to take a while to recover from that salsa. Holy hell.” She cringes.
“Do you have to go back right away?” she asks as I look at my watch.
“No, I have some time.” This is a lie. I have an appointment in twenty minutes and it’s going to take at least ten to get back by cab. I pull out my phone and send a quick message to Grace.
“So, how was class today?” I ask. I need to learn as much about her as soon as possible so I can use it to get closer.
She describes her classes and I ask her more about her major and why she chose it.
“I’m not sure. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision. And I think a little part of me wanted to pick something my dad would hate.” She’s always talking about her dad, but not about her mother. I wonder if there’s a story there. Something I might be able to use to my advantage.
“And did it work?”
She laughs.
“Did it ever. I was treated to quite the lecture. But I went ahead and declared my major anyway. I’m not a child. I can do what I want.” No, she’s definitely not a child and I suspect even when she was, she didn’t let anyone push her around.
“And you love it,” I say. It’s not a question. It’s easy to see when she talks about her classes. Well, except for drawing. She doesn’t like that very much.
“It feels like I’m doing something that matters. Something important. That might sound silly, but I don’t care. Paintings are some of the only historical records we have in some cases. Especially of historical figures. Even though the portraits probably aren’t as accurate. But who doesn’t put a filter on their Instagram pictures?” The last part makes me burst out laughing.
“That’s a good point. So, what are your plans after you graduate? Travel the world? Find yourself?”
She presses her lips together.
“Not sure yet. We’ll see. I don’t like to speculate on the future beyond today.” I like that.
“I can drink to that,” I say, raising my glass of water. We clink our glasses together and then she asks me if I want to take a walk.
“The last time we took a walk, I fucked you up against a wall,” I say, but she doesn’t react. As if she was expecting me to say that. It’s going to take more than that to shock her.
“True,” she says as I leave a generous tip for the waitress, even though she laughed at us.
“So are you saying it could happen again?” I ask as I hold the door for her.
“We’ll see,” she says, giving me a little smirk. Oh hell. What is this girl doing to me?
The sun is brilliant on Saige’s hair. Almost blinding.
“Where to?” I ask.
“This way,” she answers, pointing. It’s just like the night of our first date, with her leading the way. But only because I let her. I’m still in control.
“So tell me more about you, Quinn Brand. You’ve asked all kinds of questions about me, now it’s my turn.” I have answers ready for anything she could potentially ask me. I’ve done this part so many times before.
“What do you want to know?” She taps her chin as if she’s thinking really hard. Like she hasn’t thought about it until now, which I know is bullshit. She said she doesn’t plan for any day further than today, but now I think that’s a lie.
“Everything. Where did you grow up? Do you have any brothers or sisters? What’s your mother like? How old were you when you learned to ride a bike? Have you ever played Truth or Dare?” That is… a lot of questions.
“Do you want me to answer them all at once?” She laughs.
“You don’t have to. Just start with something. Anything.”
I’d rather not tell her about my fake childhood where I’d paint her a rosy picture of cookies and two parents and Christmases with mounds of toys. I want to talk about something different.
“I have never played Truth or Dare.” It’s nice to be honest with her, at least for this question.
“Never? Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“How is that possible?”
I shrug.
“No idea. Just never came up. Have you?” I turn the questions back on her.
“What else was there to do at sleepovers once you’d done prank calls and snuck into your parents’ liquor cabinet?” I stifle a laugh.
“Well, pillow fights come to mind,” I say and she lightly punches my shoulder.
“That’s just a male fantasy, by the way. I have never had a pillow fight in my life.”
“Now that is a damn shame.”
“Perv.”
We reach another intersection and she points. I have no idea where we’re going and I don’t care. People pass by and the city noise envelops us, but I’m focused on her.
“What is the craziest dare you’ve done?” I ask. I really, really want to know.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me about your first kiss.” Damn. I definitely don’t want to tell her about that and not because I don’t want to talk about my personal life; it’s an embarrassing story. Beyond embarrassing.
“Deal,” I say. “But you have to go first.”
She sighs as if it’s a huge imposition.
“Fine. But this better be a good story.” I’m sure she’ll enjoy it, even if I hate telling it.
“It is.”
She blows out a breath and looks straight ahead.
“The craziest dare I ever did was when I was sixteen. Oh God, it was so dumb. So we’d been doing Hamlet in school, so I got dared to do Ophelia’s death scene with a Scottish accent in the middle of Wal-Mart. Let’s just say I didn’t get through the entire scene before I was asked to leave and then escorted out of the store. I refused ever to go back to that store afterwards. Good thing that was before a lot of phones could take video on them or else it would probably be on YouTube for all the world to see.” I laugh. I can totally picture her doing that.
“Man, I wish there were a video. That’s something I’d like to see. Maybe you can reenact it for me sometime?” She rolled her eyes.
“Hell no. Now, tell me about your first kiss.” Now it was my turn to sigh and bear my awkward childhood.
“I was ten and it was at camp.” As soon as I start telling the story, I am sucked back in time to that bunk and that girl. Lacey.
“There was this girl, Lacey, I’d had a crush on all summer, but I’d been too shy to do anything about it. Of course I was an idiot and told one of my friends and then the entire boys’ bunk knew and teased me about it. Finally, I had to kiss her just to shut them up. So I passed her a note during lunch and told her to sneak away and meet me in the boys’ bunk during arts and crafts. I was freaking out and had to keep rubbing my palms on my shorts. She came and I remember wishing I’d watched more romantic movies so I’d have the right thing to say. I don’t really remember what happened next, but we ended up sitting on my bunk and I leaned in and kissed her. She smelled like gum and bug spray. She pulled back so fast I almost fell off the bunk. And then she threw up in my lap.”
I cringe, remembering the smell. I’d had to go shower and change and try and get the smell out of my mattress. It stunk a little bit for the last week of camp. But at least no one teased me about not kissing her. Instead they teased me about her throwing up. Because of course that got out as well.