The parking lot has gone cold in the time we were inside---mountain air sliding in sharp and clean under a sky that's already starting to turn. We walk to our vehicles. Gemma unlocks her Honda Civic, then pauses.
"That was... fun?"
"You knocked over the googly eyes."
"I KNOW." She covers her face with her hands. "I panicked. Why did I start talking about continental drift? Nobody cares about continental drift at a Dinosaur Day event."
"Ivy cares," I say.
"Ivy's six."
"And she had a great time."
Gemma lowers her hands. Her smile is softer now. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I shift the bag to my other hand and look at a point just past her shoulder.
Her eyes hold mine for a beat too long. I look away first.
Not thinking about how that felt. Definitely not.
"See you at home, Captain Grumpy," she says.
Home.
The word lands wrong. Too domestic. Too... together.
"See you, Lockhart," I manage.
She climbs into her car and drives off. I get Ivy buckled, load her projects into the truck bed, and pull out of the parking lot.
We're halfway home when Ivy speaks up from the backseat.
"Gemma's nice."
I watch a cyclist turn onto Main Street. "She is."
"And she likes dinosaurs." Her feet kick against the back of my seat in that rhythmic way she does when she's thinking.
"Clearly."
The hardware store slides past my window. Then the pharmacy. I focus on the faded awning over the dry goods store like it's the most interesting thing I've seen all day.
"She's really pretty too."
My hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Ivy---"
"Emma asked me something today. At the fossil dig. Between the brachiosaurus and the triceratops."
Everything in me goes still. "What did she ask?"
"If you liked Gemma. You know, like LIKE-liked her."
The truck swerves slightly. I correct it. "What did you tell her?"
"I said I didn't know. But then I asked Gemma if she was your girlfriend."
Oh no.
