He was kind of cute when clueless.
“I can’t say that I have.”
“As the great Sergeant Calhoun said, ‘flattery don’t charge these batteries, civilian.’ Chivalry is dead, Batman.”
“I– hmm. Noted.”
Our food was passed along the counter with grumbled salutations. I gave Beef Daddy an air salute and followed Joe toward the paved walking path that led through Forest Park. Though I knew every serene avenue and secret gem the park had to offer, I let Joe lead, casually wondering which one of my murder spots we would pass.
Our walk was silent save for the sound of me going to fucking town on my favorite late night snack.
My mind was blissfully blank, the processed meat and cold acid in a can propelling me to another dimension.
I was in the middle of licking chili off the back of my hand when I heard him say, “You’re such a curiosity.”
My tongue froze, and I couldn’t decide if I was mortified he was watching or couldn't care less.
“Well,” I said after deciding to proceed with my cleanup. “I’ve been called worse.”
“It wasn’t an insult, Ivy.”
“In that case, I’ve definitely been called better.”
His sudden burst of laughter echoed into the night and I could feel the dimples appearing on my cheeks from the stupid smile it encouraged.
Why was it so easy around him? We hadn’t been together for even an hour and my safeguard was nowhere to be found. The thought made me a little queasy. The last time my guard was down, I died.
An old, Victorian style bridge came into view along with the trickling sound of water.
“This is the true test of our date, Batman.” I forced a lightness to my tone, hoping he wouldn’t be able to sense the honesty behind my words.
“Oh? How so?”
The wooden boards creaked under our weight. When we got to the center of the bridge, I stopped and leaned over the railing.
“Well, this is either the part where you tell me you’re a psycho killer and try to throw me over the side of this bridge, or you tell me one of your deepest darkest secrets so we can bond over shared trauma.”
Please be number two, Batman. Don’t make me kill you.
“Deepest darkest secret?”
“Yeah. Like your old man used to hit your mom, or you were so bullied in high school that you now work twice a day on your washboard abs to fill the void your prom date left when she told you you were ugly. You know, try to get on my level so you can gain my trust through trauma bonding.”
“Why would I assume you have trauma for us to bond over?”
“Seriously?” I stepped back and gestured to myself as dramatically as I could. “Did you miss the part where I was a stripper? Daddy issues are required on the application form.”
“Huh,” he chuckled again and shook his head. “Seems like you’ve got me all figured out then.”
“Ask me about the third option,” I said, a little lighter with a mischievous smirk.
Will you take the bait?
“What is your third option, Confucius?” Joe picked pieces of bread off of his untouched meal and tossed them into the water.
“The third option is that you tell me your priest used to touch you in your no-no square, I don’t believe you, then you kill me and throw me over the railing.”
Though concern etched his brow, an amused twitch lifted the corner of his mouth. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I was sexually assaulted?”
