A small bite of her bottom lip precedes her inquiring, “We?”
“I’ve never been paragliding before.”
“No?”
“I’ve neverwantedto go paragliding before.” I lean in a bit closer when I add, “But you could convince me to change my mind.”
Which would be easy to do if it means making her smile.
I like the idea of being the one who can do that.
I like the idea of being the one willing to always do that.
Besides, there’s something about her wild child style that calls to me to find my own.
Maybe it’s because I’ve spent most of my life being responsible.
Poised.
Precise.
I like the idea of being morechaotic.
Unpredictable.
Especially with Janae.
“You think you can keep up with me?” she inquires after a silent beat. “Stay on my six?”
“Of course,” is emphasized with cocky pop of my tank top collar as we advance, but unfavorably for me, I trip over uneven sand instantly degrading the arrogance. Talking over her giggles becomes necessary to save any sort of face. “Idowork out, ya know.”
Her head falls to one side in a sarcastic fashion.
“I do!”
The lifting of her eyebrows simply reiterates her disbelief.
“I really do!”
Mirth works its way through her expression during her declaration, “You better be ready to becomeThe Little Tech Mogul Who Couldout here. We arenotgoing to be the reason Starfleet loses.”
I opt out of acknowledging her lack of belief in my athleticism to praise, “I like that you called me a tech mogul.”
“What else do you call someone brilliant enough to design – and launch – a worldwide app that allows consumers to not only be able to rate and rank their personal Wilcox preferences – both booze and beers – but also trackwherethey’re socially available as well as commercially?”
Speechlessness stumbles me verbally, along with physically.
No one’s ever singled out my accomplishments like this.
It’s typically done like an afterthought or footnote to whatever the Wilcox brand itself has achieved.
I’m rarely acknowledged on my own.
I like it.
Iloveit.
I gotta admit…I want more of it.
