By the time we have boarded our flight, Paisley has finished her coffee and is almost one hundred percent human again. From her bag comes a tattered paperback, corners bent and spine cracked. She stows the leather backpack under the seat in front of us with her foot.
I peer over. “What book is that?”
Paisley presses it to her chest, blocking me out with a curved shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You do realize all you’ve done is pique my interest in what you’re reading.”
Paisley digs her heels in, stubborn as always. “I told you you can’t see, and now all you want is to see it.”
I fight a smile. “Yes, Royce, withholding makes me want it more.”
Her eyes flare.
“Double entendre.”
“What’s that?”
“A double entendre is a word or phrase that’s— ” I swallow the remaining portion of my explanation. Paisley’s nodding way too enthusiastically to be authentic. “You’re trying to distract me so I’ll forget about the book.”
She doesn’t argue the accusation.
I narrow my eyes at her chest, where the book is tightly held. “Show me the book.”
She doesn’t move. “I always read it before I go to Bald Head.”
“Always?”
She nods. She looks so cute right now. Messy and a little mischievous.
“Starting when?”
“Since I was fourteen.”
I nudge her with my elbow. “Why can’t you show it to me?”
“I can,” she says, “I just feel a little bit shy about it.”
Huffing a breath, she opens her shoulder so it’s not blocking me and moves the book away from her chest.
“Summer Sisters?” I check out the author name. “Why are you shy about it? Judy Blume writes novels for middle grade and maybe young adults who are more younger than adult.”
Paisley points at me. “That is precisely what I thought when I first picked it up. But this book right here?” She lifts it, shaking it just enough so the well-worn pages flap. “Taught me about”—she lowers her voice—“hand jobs.”
I eye the cover. “Seriously?”
“Yep. My fourteen-year-old brain exploded.”
“Not so much that it kept you from re-reads,” I tease, flicking a dog-eared corner.
She scoffs. “It’s a beautiful story about friendship.”
“Sure, sure.”
Paisley rolls her eyes. The flight attendant assumes her position in the aisle. She begins the safety instructions, and Paisley puts down her book, hands folded in her lap as she watches everything the flight attendant does.
When she finishes, Paisley picks up her book. I lean over. “You were without a doubt the only person making eye contact with her.”
“It’s rude to ignore someone who’s speaking to you. Besides, she’s teaching people how to save their lives, and the lives of others. You should be thanking me, because I know what to do if the air masks drop, and you don’t and I’ll end up having to help you.” Paisley fixes me with a sharp glare. “You, sir, are a liability.”
