It feels strange, this feeling. Waking up with hopefulness in my chest instead of the usual cocktail of loneliness, grumpiness, and dread. For once, I have something to smile about.
Missy’s practically vibrating with excitement now, crouched beside the cot like she’s about to interrogate me under a spotlight. “Oh my god, Ford,”she says, grabbing my arm. “I need all the details. I knew you two were perfect for each other. Don’t even try to deny it.”
“I’m not telling you anything,” I mumble, snatching my cap from the cot and pulling it sharply onto my head so the peak covers my face.
She yanks it off.
“Come on. Was it romantic? Was it awkward? Did she kiss you first? Did you …”
“Missy,” I interrupt, swiping it back, “you are relentless.”
She beams.
“Thank you.”
I sigh, rubbing my eyes.
“Okay, look. You know how I never, and I mean never, ask for help?”
She narrows her eyes suspiciously.
“Go on …”
“Well,” I say, dragging the words out, “because you’re my wonderful sister …”
She snorts.
“Flattery won’t save you.”
“… and because you’re clearly invested in this whole ‘me and Stormy’ saga …”
She crosses her arms, waiting.
“I was thinking,” I continue, “I might take her out tonight. Something simple. Just … not here. And I was wondering if you could cover for me?”
Missy groans dramatically, flopping onto a hay bale.
“Ugh, fine. But you owe me.”
“I know.”
“Like, big time.”
“I said I know.”
She sits up again, already scheming.
“You’d better make it good. Flowers. Candles. Maybe a picnic. Oh! You could take her to that little lake near the ridge …”
“Missy …”
“What?”
“I’m not planning a wedding. It’s just a date.”
She grins.
“Not yet.”
