“What?”
He rolled over on his side, facing me, mischief written all over his face. “It occurred to me after our...ah...lesson in the tractor this morning that I used to see you driving that thing around like a bat out of hell every summer. So I just got to wondering if you had somehow forgotten absolutely everything and therefore needed to sit on my lap while I taught you?”
A laugh gurgled out of my chest. “I could drive that thing in my sleep,” I admitted, sheepishly.
“I knew it.”
“If you knew it, then why did you offer a driving lesson?”
“I was testing you.”
“Huh?”
“I wanted you on my lap, but I needed to see how badly you wanted it too.” He lifted himself up on his elbows and looked at me knowingly. “And it would appear you wanted it pretty bad.”
I didn’t respond, but I didn’t need to. Our soft, embarrassed laughter into the night was confession enough.
“Tell me one thing I don’t know about you,” I said, staring up at the shadows of dancing flames on the ceiling.
Dusty drew in a deep breath and sighed, contemplating the question. I thought he would play it funny, like I planned to do, but he surprised me.
“I’m not usually this flirty with girls.”
It was my turn to look at him. “What?”
“My best friend in Eugene—Jake. He’s the flirt. The ladies’ man. I’ve always been more of his wingman.”
I processed this compared to what I knew of Dusty today. “I’m finding that hard to believe.”
He chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not scared of girls. I’ve dated some here and there, but I always hung back. Was more quiet.”
I thought back to the Dusty of my youth. Julia was the loud and sporty one, I was the nervous and dependable one, and Dusty…Dusty was the constant. The easy-going, go-with-the-flow peacemaker. He was sweet and funny, but never obnoxiously so. He always had a quiet strength and confidence that I drew comfort from.
“What changed being here?” I couldn’t bear to ask directly why he was so flirty with me. I hoped my first question would be enough.
The fire popped and I sunk lower into the covers while I waited for him to answer the question I was already regretting.
“I’m not sure. From the second I got here it felt different with you. You make it fun. I know we knew each other a bit as kids, but as an adult, it feels like I’ve known you forever.”
The storm was forgotten. It was now a warm, sunny day and I was floating away on a cloud. “Me too.”
Dusty cleared his throat. “What about you? What’s something I don’t know about you?”
I pulled my blanket up higher, tucking myself in on all sides, wonderingwhatto say and howmuchto say and if Ishouldsay, that I finally just said, “I worry a lot.”
“About what?”
“Everything. My mind is like another character in my life. In my story. Narrating and fixating on everything I do or don’t do until I ultimately do something stupid and drive people away.”
I took a deep breath. And then I kept breathing. Gulping air, focusing on pulling in oxygen. Counting to ten. Besides Julia and my mother, I had never told anybody that.
“Like what? Give me an example.”
I almost laughed. But it really wasn’t funny. Not to me. “There are literally thousands of moments to choose from.”
“Give me a recent example. With me. If you have one.”
My heart drummed loudly in my chest. My mind raced over the last day with him. But there was one instance in particular that still weighed heavily on my mind. Now if I only had the guts to say it to him.
