“Unresolved shit is my specialty.”
She salts her fries again. “I’m terrified,” she says, eyes on the plate. “Not of him. Of wanting three men at once.”
“Me too. The other way around, I mean. Different angle.” I blow out a breath to admit this thing that’s been gnawing at me. “I’m terrified to be worth wanting.”
She looks up at that. “You are?”
“I want to try something new with you. Something real. Not the stunt. Not the headline. Something that lasts longer than a photo op.”
She taps the booth with two fingers, thinking. “Okay. Then we practice normal until you stop flinching.”
“I flinch cute.”
“You flinch loud.”
The waitress drops more napkins. “You two need anything else?”
“Time.” I wink at her.
She grins like she’s heard that before and wanders off.
Lou takes a long pull on the milkshake, then sets it down. “Ground rules,” she says. “We say what we need. We don’t audition for the internet. We don’t promise each other things we can’t keep.”
“Deal.”
She nudges my ankle under the table. “Also, if I say stop, you stop.”
“Always.”
“And if I say more, you keep your hands steady.”
I laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”
She taps her screen again, thinking about the mess. “No heroics online,” she adds. “No replying to trolls. No DMs to strangers in my defense. Don’t take the bait.”
“I wasn’t going to,” I say. “But fine. I won’t.”
“Not even if it’s Troy.”
“Now you’re asking for a lot.”
“That’s what I do.” She grins.
I grin right back. “That’s why I like you, Lou.”
We finish the fries. I feed the jukebox so she can pick a song. She picks something from the early Weird Al catalog. We listen and laugh, and for once, I might have an idea of what normal could be.
Outside, the heat stands up when we do. The bike waits where we left it, chrome winking, seat hot enough to burn skin. I strap on my helmet, then hers. She swings on behind me, not shy. We take the side road past the dry wash and out where the land doesn’t bother pretending to be city.
“Where are we going?” she says over the engine.
“High ground. No neighbors.”
She squeezes my ribs once in answer. Good.
It’s late afternoon. The sun decides to take its time. The desert opens and keeps opening. I find a dirt pull-off where the scrub peters out, and the horizon is all we get. I kill the engine. The silence is the kind you feel in your teeth.
Lou pulls her helmet off and shakes her hair loose. Copper streaks catch the light. She looks at me like she wants to say a thing and doesn’t. I step closer.
