I smile because happy Reeve is back, but my mind churns with questions: Did he feel what I felt on the Ferris wheel or was that wishful thinking? And how can I possibly put the lid back on that startling realization I just had?
“We should put that energy to good use,” I tell him.
He looks at me, one eyebrow raised suggestively.
“I mean you should win me that prize.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, I’m down. Let’s go smash the shit out of some milk bottles.”
It takes only minutes before I’m walking out of the carnival with a giant neon-pink penguin in my arms.
“What are you gonna name him?” Reeve asks as we head out the carnival gates toward my car.
“I’m not.”
“How about Reeve?”
“If you insist I name him, I can promise you it won’t be Reeve.”
“Yeah, you’re right. He could never live up to that name. I got it ... Jeeve.”
“Jeeve?”
“Yeah, you and me. Jade plus Reeve. Unless you prefer ... Rade?”
“Rade?” I make a face. “No, definitely not Rade.”
“Jeeve it is.” He pats Jeeve affectionately. “This must be what it’s like to become a father.”
I laugh. “Yeah, just like this. Except I’m betting you spent ten times as long winning Jeeve as you would making a baby.”
I wait for the inevitable boast about how he can go all night long and he’ll prove it to me if he has to, but it doesn’t come. Maybe that was wishful thinking too. “You know, I appreciate you dragging me out tonight. I haven’t had a night like this in a long time. Sorry for being a grumpy prick earlier.”
“Don’t be. Now that I know what a grumpy prick you can be, I’m free to be the real me,” I joke. “And if you thought I was a bitch before, you’re in for a treat.”
“I can put up with that if you can put up with me. Other than Cam, my friends don’t want me around unless I’m making everyone laugh.”
“They’ve told you that?”
“No, but I know what they expect. I’m the fun guy—all good vibes all the time.”
“And what? You really think they’d shun you for having a bad mood?”
He shrugs. “I don’t need to find out. Better to keep to myself when I want to be an asshole.” I must have a look of pity on my face, because he shakes his head. “Nah, don’t go feeling sorry for me. I’m used to handling problems on my own. It’s okay with me.”
We reach my car and get in, suddenly insulated from the noise and color and stimulation of the carnival. In the quiet before I start the engine, I’m thoughtful.
“What?” he asks.
“I was just thinking. About our no-rules agreement.”
Reeve watches me, his eyes moving between mine. I sense his uncertainty, but is it hope or dread that has him searching my face for answers?
“Since we have no rules, there’s nothing to say you can’t put your problems on me.”
“Oh.” I can see this isn’t where he expected the conversation to go. “Yeah, I don’t know. You wouldn’t like me much if I got all needy.”
“I don’t like you much as it is, so there’s nothing to lose.”
