“You don’t sleep with the hall light on. The darker the better,” I guess.
“Wrong. Total wimp.”
I burst out laughing, thinking he can’t be serious, until he doesn’t laugh with me. Reed’s a teenage boy afraid of the dark, and that means he’s only kissed a few girls.
Next to the water, his eyes glow a deeper shade of blue. “I also lied about how many,” he confesses. “It’s not a handful.” He eyes me sheepishly through his lashes. “It’s not anyone actually.”
I’m thankful he is difficult to embarrass because I gape at him with an unhinged jaw, close enough to resemble a nutcracker. “You’veneverkissed someone?”
“Is there something wrong with that?” he asks simply.
“Well, no, but?—”
“But what? Because I’m a teenage guy, it means I just give it away to the first girl I come across?”
The hole I’ve managed to dig for myself has become a trench at this point. More like a burial plot where my casket belongs.
“I’m just?—”
“Speechless?” he finishes. “Good to know I have that effect on you.”
He winks at me, and I freak out internally. I have no idea what to do with myself in this situation. I’m embarrassed and nervous. Terrified he can read every single one of those emotions with my face on fire, so I dunk my whole head straight under water to put it out.
When I come up for air, he’s still unfazed. He wraps his biceps along the top of the dock, resting his chin on his forearms. “All right, your turn.”
I think about it for a second before deciding to say the first thing that comes to mind.
“I’ve been the same height since the sixth grade. I’d rather eat a pickle than a cookie any day. And I can’t keep my eyes open past ten.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Please tell me the ten o’clock bedtime is a lie, because if you say it’s the pickle one…”
I cringe. “It’s the pickle one.”
“Dammit, Teddy. I’m appalled that you would diss on pickles when they’re my favorite food group.”
“Pickles? Seriously?”
He nods. “On burgers, with peanut butter, dipped in a milkshake, on the end of a stick, you name it, it’s my favorite thing.”
Now I’m the one laughing. “I would have never guessed that. But seriously, dipped in a milkshake? That’s just ruining a perfectly good milkshake,” I say.
“When we go on that date you promised me, you’re trying it,” he wagers, holding out his pinky.
“Oh. I didn’t know we were still doing that.”
“Why wouldn’t we? You have something against me, Fletcher?” He squints and then splashes water at my face. I whip my head to the side just before it sprays my cheek.
“You’re going to pay for that,” I call, but he’s already paddling backward out of reach. When I give up, he swims back to me and extends his pinky in the air.
“So, do we have a deal or not?”
Hanging out with Reed and trying milkshake-dipped pickles sounds like the most fun I’ve had all year, so I say, “Deal,” and wrap my pinky finger around his. Then he leans forward andkisses it, and it’s a good thing we’re in icy lake water. My body flushes the hottest shade of pink.
“Now let’s play the game you want to play. The one where we jump like elementary-school-aged children on that trampoline you’ve been eyeing all summer.”
I don’t even try to hide my excitement. “Yes!”
We spend the next thirty minutes teasing each other and jumping. Reed does a flip off the side, and then we both jump off together holding hands. I like being around him. He’s fun and playful and has a way of making me forget everything else.
