“Me too,” I mutter.
Diana furrows her brows in curiosity and I find myself explaining. “Carly and I were born on July Fourth.”
“That sucks.”
“We’re used to it.” Gesturing around us, I announce, “Well, the park is your limit. And I’m just here for the food and overly-sweet stuff.”
At the mention of sweets, her pretty eyes light up. “Speaking of sweet stuff, where’s Hogsmeade?”
Twenty minutes, two long escalator rides, and a split churro later, we arrive in the Harry Potter section of the park. I’ve only seen the movies but I can tell—based on the bright smile on Diana’s face—that she’s a bigger Potterhead than my cousin Bailey ever was.
“This is just as magical as I remember,” she marvels as she glances between the two buildings in front of us while we wait in line for butterbeer. “I just wish I brought my robes with me.”
“Robes?”
She nods. “My Hufflepuff robes.”
My jaw drops yet again. It doesn’t surprise me that she has Harry Potter robes—that girl goes all out for the things she cares about—but Diana being a Hufflepuff was not on my Diana Blanco Bingo card. “You? A Hufflepuff?”
She snorts after glancing at the shocked expression on my face. “Why are you so surprised? You’ve seen my pajamas.”
I hold my hands up. “I thought they were hand-me-downs.”
“Well they weren’t,” she confirms. “I took that test a long time ago and I was such a different person back then.”
“No kidding.”
“Well, what’s your house?” She asks.
I shrug. “Never took the quiz. Maybe I’m a Ravenclaw.” Finally, we reach the front of the line and order two for each of us. I get the hot version, while Diana orders the frozen ButterBeer—which is just a butterscotch slushy with white foam on top.
“That’s just crazy to me,” she declares as she fishes in her bag for her wallet. “First, you don’t know what Hogwarts house you’re in and now you're trying to pay for my ButterBeer.”
I place my hand over her bag. “I’ve got it.”
“No, Carson. I was the one who suggested we get some so it’s only fair if I pay for it.”
“It’s your birthday, so I insist.”
“So do I,” she says, looking up from her bag to face me. “Trust me, doc. You’ve already done more than enough for me. So the least I can do is pay for your drink. So Carson, whatever your middle name is, Ryder, let me pay!”
My heartbeat quickens its pace and I’m pretty sure people can hear it from inside the Wands attraction near us.
That’s a first for me.
I can’t say that someone has insisted on paying for or doing anything for me in the past. I can’t recall a time when that’s happened. So never expecting anything in return was mynormal. If I didn’t know any better, I would have expected Diana to just give in and let me pay but prior experience has taught me that she can be stubborn when she wants to be.
But if her stubbornness means pushing her attention towards me? Doing something for me?
“Are you sure?” I ask.
She pulls out her wallet, curtain bangs falling in her eyes. After grabbing a card and handing it to the vendor—who I now realize has been listening to this conversation, the nosy fucker—she responds without a hint of hesitation in her voice. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
This girl might just be the death of me and it’s an ending I’m just waiting for.
15
NOT Bartholomew
