I hummed, swiping my thumb across the corner of her mouth to catch a drop of chocolate before sucking it clean. “And how long have you not eaten food with a face?”
“I don’t know. As long as I can remember. Since I was eight, at least, if not longer.”
“Your parents put up with that?”
She laughed, still noshing away on the funnel cake, licking her fingers like they were goddamn popsicles and making things quite difficult south of the belt for me. “What do you mean ‘put up with that’? It’s just vegetarian, and I was cooking for myself anyway.”
I raised my brows. “You were cooking for yourself at eight?”
“You weren’t?” she asked, without judgment but full of intrigue.
“No.” While I certainly helped—as the oldest of six, I hadn’t had a whole lot of choice in the matter—my parents still ran the household. At least, back then. Before.
“Yeah, I kind of had to figure it out. No siblings—older or otherwise. My mom’s a little…” She squinted one eye as she chewed. “Flighty, I guess? She’s me, but, like, a hundred times worse. And my dad’s always worked long hours.”
That was certainly different from the picture I’d painted of her upon first meeting. One of a spoiled little rich girl whose parents doted on her. Who got everything she wanted and never had to work for anything in her life. She’d grown up the exact opposite of me. While I hadn’t had a moment’s peace when I’d been younger, she’d had nothing but. And while I would’ve given anything for some solitude and privacy in my teen years, I wondered what it would’ve been like to basically be on my own that young.
“So you were alone a lot.”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound sad about that.”
She looked at me with curious eyes. “Why would I be?”
“You didn’t mind it?”
“Not at all. As much as I love being around people, I adore being alone. I’m more myself when it’s just me.”
“You haven’t been yourself when you’re around me?” For some reason, that thought irritated me.
She paused for a minute, considering, then breathed out a laugh. “I actually have been, with you. I haven’t been pulling my punches like usual. People get… I don’t know. I usually have to water myself down to make myself more palatable to others. I’m too much, you know?”
“If anyone thinks you’re too much, they can fuck off and find something less.”
She blinked at me, a piece of funnel cake frozen in the air between the plate and her mouth. Then she shot her full-watt smile in my direction, and my heart cracked down the middle. Just split right in two.
“I think I need that on a bumper sticker.” She grinned, knocking her shoulder into my chest. “Anyway, I haven’t ever found anyone who accepts me as I am, completely. Besides my parents, anyway. They’ve always supported me and what I want to do.”
“Like traveling around the country and protesting on a whim.”
She laughed. “Exactly. Though that’s not a surprise since both are in my blood. My mom’s always been a free spirit, just going where the wind would take her, but if she was protesting, I was with her. She has a picture of the two of us from when I was maybe six months old, just strapped to her chest in a baby carrier while she marched.”
“What about your dad?”
“He’s not much for attending protests, but he supports us both. He’s on the other side of the law, usually getting one of us out of trouble.”
My brows flew up. “He’s a cop?”
“Nope, lawyer. Pretty much as straitlaced as you are,” she teased. “I have no idea how they work so well together. They just do. They’ve been together for thirty-five years. Guess there’s something to be said for that whole opposites attract thing.”
My throat tightened, remembering what Beck had said about that very thing. Was that what was going on here? Why I felt so fucking drawn to her? Why I couldn’t go a goddamn hour without thinking about her?
“That’s…a different way to grow up,” I finally said. “Being carted to protests, I mean.”
“Is it?” She tipped her head to the side, studying me before finally shrugging. “It’s all I’ve known, so it doesn’t seem strange to me. I love that she encouraged that in me. Fighting for something you believe in is the most important thing you can do.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” someone called, and I turned to find Harper striding toward us.
