“Of course I can!”
“Go on, then.”
Loafers cleared his throat. “They named the island after avagina?”
“Wait, what?” I clasped a hand to my chest as we cruised to a stop at the light just before the bridge. “A vagina? Dear God! This is theSouth, Loafers. We’d never be so crass!”
“But you said…”
“A cooter is a turtle, obviously. A freshwaterturtle.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is not.”
“Is, too. Surely you’ve heard of the coastal plain cooter? The river cooter?” I leaned toward him and lowered my voice. “The red-bellied cooter?”
“You’re making that up.”
“I would never lie about cooters,” I told him solemnly. “Google it if you don’t believe me.”
“Maybe I will!” He pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Do it before we go over the bridge, though, ’cause that’s where the signal starts to get spotty.”
“Does it?” He frowned, but his expression cleared quickly. “Well, I guess that’s more of an amenity than a detraction for people vacationing on the islands, right? Forced to be offline? Not chained to social media?” He pushed a hand through his hair, and a few dark waves fell on his forehead.
“Mmm. I definitely don’t know anyone chained to social media,” I agreed.
“Right. No.” Loafers slid his phone away. “Me neither. So, ah… what were we talking about?”
“Cooters?”
“Yeah.” His face went even pinker. “You were educating me. Because you have experience with a wide variety of… them.”
I laughed. This whole conversation was incredibly immature. Andfuck me, I liked it.
“Actually.” I gave him a sideways look just to check his reaction. “I have no experience at all. In fact, you might say my knowledge of cooters is purely theoretical. In all senses of the word.”
“Oh. Right.” His brow furrowed. “Meaning…”
“Meaning I know jack shit about turtles, and also I’m gay.”
“You’re…Ohhhh.” His expression cleared. “That’s cool! Same as my brother.” He paused. “I mean, not about the turtle thing, just the gay thing? Though probably the turtle thing also.”
“You’re babbling, Loafers.”
“Sorry, right.” Another pause. “I’m, ah… I’m straight.”
He said it gently, almost apologetically, and I wondered if he thought me outing myself was the world’s lamest pickup line.
Which it absolutely had not been. Especially since it hadn’t worked.
“My heart’s breaking, Loafers.” I rolled my eyes. “But don’t cry for me. Somehow I’ll survive.”
“Oh, no! I mean… I didn’t… It wasn’t because…” His face flushed a deep red, and he took a deep, calming breath. “You shared with me, so I shared with you. As a friend.”
“Thanks for explaining how friendship works,” I said dryly, and I promptly packed all my thoughts about Loafers on his knees into a tiny little box in my mind and locked it firmly.
It was a damn shame. I had no illusions that Loafers would last more than an hour on Whispering Key, but I could’ve made that hour really, reallymemorable.I had exactly one life rule, though. One andonly. I didn’t do straight guys.
