“Well, you’re not wrong,” I admitted. “I was in a church choir for a while. Got a lot of solos.”
“I’d like to hear you some time.”
I laughed. “I don’t sing for no reason, Dakota.”
“So, what you’re saying is I’ll have to find something that’ll make you happy enough to sing?”
“Maybe.” I tried not to smile too wide.
Dakota looked thoughtful. I bit my tongue, keeping the fact that he wouldn’t have to look far to earn a song from me. He didn’t need to know that.
“What makes you happy enough to sing?” In my experience, if you wanted to get the attention off yourself in the least obvious way possible, you reverse Uno the conversation.
Dakota gazed at me with curiosity in his eyes. “Do I look like someone who can sing?”
“Honest?”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
“No. Not in the slightest.”
When he laughed loudly, I realized my answer could have been too straightforward and come off as a little mean. Even though he didn’t seem offended, I felt the need to apologize.
“You’re not wrong,” he assured. “I guess you were asking in more of a metaphorical sense?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Also, sorry. I sometimes say random shit that could come off as rude. You can call me out if necessary. I’m not the type to get easily offended. Hanging out with assholes most of my life has given me tougher skin than most.”
“No need to apologize and same here. The tougher skin than most part,” he clarified. “Also, my favorite kind of people are the kind who say random shit.”
My shoulders relaxed. “Really?”
“Yeah, I don’t do it, so it’s fun to watch others,” he explained. “Don’t stop on my account.”
I nodded, surprised at how nice it felt to be with someone who I wouldn’t have to be afraid of scaring away. “So, what kind assholes did you have to deal with to earn your thick skin?”
Someone’s voice came through the walkie. The dispatcher called out a cart number that was nowhere near ours, so we refocused on our conversation.
“I grew up in a pretty rough neighborhood.” Dakota rested his elbow on the back of the chair and leaned his face on his fist as he spoke. “My folks… well, we were poor. Like, barely any food on the table, electricity out for a week or two poor. So, the struggle consumed so many aspects of our life. And you either sink or swim. There’s not an in-between.”
I turned to him as he spoke. My movement made the soft skin of his forearm briefly brush against my back. I limited myself to only ten seconds of fantasizing about him putting his arm around me like we were together. Once those ten seconds were up, I reminded myself I was safer staying friends.
“I get that.” I nodded. “I had a similar experience growing up. It’s better now, clearly. But it definitely made a mark.”
He bit on his lip for a second before saying, “Yeah, definitely left marks behind. Things didn’t change for me until I came here. To Westbrooke.”
I smiled. “Good. I’m glad you’re in a better place. I haven’t been here for long, but it’s nice here. For the most part, it feels safe.”
“For the most part,” he agreed with a smile. His words sounded loaded, but he didn’t look like he was going to elaborate. “Do you mind if you keep this to yourself? No one knows about my family. They’re… we’re still struggling, so…”
“Of course,” I said, quickly, trying to assure him I was a safe person to guard confessions. “I’d never say anything. I know how it is to be on the outside.”
He took a breath, body visibly relaxing. “Thanks.”
It felt nice to know something he kept close. His sharing that much of meant he trusted me on some level. I didn’t know what I did to deserve it, but I wanted him to know something about me so he knew I felt the same. I trusted him more than I’ve ever trusted someone new.
“Can I share something with you?” I asked. “An idea I’ve been kind of scared to pursue. I want to bounce ideas off of someone that’s emphatic. I need your honest opinion to make sure I’m not going to step on toes.”
“Of course.” Dakota straightened a bit, already taking me seriously. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being taken seriously. “I’ll do the best I can.”
