“Well, well, well, fancy meeting you here,” Chase says, slipping into my passenger seat. Hunter honks twice before leaving the Patti’s Place parking lot in Chase’s car.
Monday came in the blink of an eye. I yawn, hoping the steaming hot sips of coffee kick in before we hit the highway. The inky dawn looms around us as the dome light fades in my car. “Good morning,” I say, reaching for the second cup in the center console. “I got you some coffee…”
“You…did?” He looks surprised as he reaches for the cup and takes a swig. “You memorized my coffee order?”
“I mean, you come in several times a week for coffee, and you always make it the same way up at camp… It’s not that big of a deal.”
“If you say so.” He smirks, and the glowing console gives enough light for me to see his eyebrows raise as he takes another drink.
Okay, maybe Ididmemorize his coffee preferences, and maybe I’ve noticed he might really be a nice guy. We can be friendly. There’s nothing wrong with being friends with a cute tourist who’s good with kids and has told you, under no uncertainterms, that he will fall for you by the end of summer. Doesn’t mean I’ll fall for him. Just friends. No problem.
I turn the radio to a soft rock station and hum quietly to the melody as I pull out of the parking lot. With the soft glow of the lights from the dashboard, I notice Chase tapping his fingers on his knee as stares out the window. The sun will crest over the mountain by the time we reach the highway, but for now, the car is enshrouded in darkness.
“Do you like this kind of music?” I ask, breaking the silence. If we’re going to be friends, I better get used to initiating conversations with him.
“Yeah, it’s what I grew up on. But I’m okay with whatever. What kind of music do you like?”
“Everything.” I shrug.
“Country?”
“Yep.”
“Classical?”
“Mm-hmm. And opera…sometimes. I have to be in the mood for that.”
“Rap?”
“Seriously, Chase?” I laugh, wondering what about the wordeverythinglends to his confusion.
“Hey, I don’t want to assume.” He chuckles, putting his hand up in defense. “My assumptions about you have been wrong so far. You’re an enigma.”
“Am I?” I challenge, knowing full well I’ve been giving him nothing to work with. I’ve purposely kept him at arm’s length so he couldn’t know more, but something about him calling me out on it makes me feel defensive.
“Kayla, most of what I know about you has been through watching you interact with everyone but me. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just—you’re a puzzle, and I want to learn how all the pieces fit together.”
His words hang in the air, leaving me speechless.He wants tolearn how all of my pieces fit together? How do I even respond to that? What does it even mean?We’ve been in the car for less than five minutes, and myjust friendsmantra is disintegrating due to a cheesy metaphor.
“The music thing… You sure you likeeverything?” he asks.
“Scan the radio, and I bet I can sing the words of 90 percent of what comes on.”
“If it’s a bet, what do I get when you lose?”
“What do you want to get?” I ask, not realizing how wide-open I just left that opportunity. My eyes flash in a panic as I look over at him, and he laughs.
“Hmm. Your number.”
“…That’s it?”
“Do you want there to be more?”
I shake my head.
“Okay, then. We’ll go through ten songs, and you can miss one. Any more than that and I get your number. Deal?”
“Deal.”
