I huff. I’m going easy on him. I am trying to fix his sad views on love. Does he not appreciate it?
“I’m just saying, if I write down a dozen things on a list that I want to do, it’s going to take a while. That’s not very realistic. We can’t accomplish twelve things in one night.”
I let out a sharp exhale, my shoulders sagging. “We could if you’d quit talking about it.”
“Fran—”
“Fine. Two things?—”
“Even two,” he says, because he has to make this difficult. “What if one of my things is skydiving? It’s seven o’clock at night in Tesoro, so how will we skydive?”
“Oh my gosh. You do not appreciate this at all. Do you have any idea which remake I could have done? Have you ever seenJoe Versus the Volcano?”
“It’s a legit concern,” he says.
“Ugh. Come on. Put two things on your list, and I’ll put two things on mine. Then we’ll accomplish them.” I pull out my trusty notepad, the one I stole from Stacks.
“Okay. So, I need to write down doable things…” He sighs. “What movie is this from because?—”
“Doable? Cal, this is supposed to be adventurous, heart-pounding, deep desires of your heart. Notdoable.” My nose wrinkles with the word. Callum Whitaker might be in worse shape than I thought.
He studies me. “That’s… a lot. And you know very well that we cannot go skydiving tonight.”
“Fine. But eat fast, and you need to make your list while you’re eating. I’ve already made mine.” I tug my list from a second Stacks notebook and peer down at my ten items. I’ll need to cut eight. Darn.
“Holy smokes, Fran. You expected us to do all of that tonight?”
“It’s supposed to be fun. And as for the movie, I’ve decided rather than me telling you, you’ll need to watch them.”
“But—”
“I know, you can hardly stay awake during a movie. That’s all going to change, Callum. Your luck is changing, and I’m going to change your outlook on love?—”
“I don’t need tochangeanything. I have nothing against love,” he says.
“Except when it comes to yourself. Taking a hiatus for eternity isn’t okay.”
He blows a raspberry through his lips and stabs another bite of lettuce. “Give me a pen.”
I eat my burger that smells a million times better than Callum’s salad while he stabs lettuce leaves and makes hisown list. It takes him a whole lot longer than it should—it’s only two items. But his salad is long gone by the time he’s ready.
I have eight crossed out, leaving my remaining two. It was horribly sad to cut “Join the Peace Corps,” but that one would have been tricky.
When he sets his pen down, I swivel in my passenger seat to better face him.
6:28 p.m. Blood pumping. I’m excited for this, for Callum to experience this. I hope he is too.
“All right,” I say, beaming. “What’s on your list, Callum Whitaker?”
He presses his lips together and peers down at his paper. “One random act of kindness.”
I lift my brows. “Ooo, I like it.”
“And one scoop of chocolate chip ice cream.”
“Cal,” I groan, unimpressed.
“Hey, I’m in season. I don’t eat ice cream in season. And I’ve been craving chocolate chip ice cream since January.”
