“It’s true.”
“Bullshit. Favorite animal?”
“Really?”
“What?” I laugh between bites. “Everyone starts somewhere.”
“Not at animals.”
“Answer the question.”
“Fine. Squirrel.”
I nearly choke. “Are you serious?”
“If you’re going to mock my answers?—”
“No, no!” Barely able to smother my giggles, I shake my head. “I thought you’d say bear or something.”
“Why?”
“Look at you! You’re huge and as manly as a man could be. A bear would fit you.”
“That’s like me looking at you and saying your favorite animal is a sugar glider.”
For a single, horrifying second I fear the worst. That Falco would say something like others have said in the past likepigorelephant, but the word that leaves his lips has me stunned. “A…sugar glider?”
Falco nods, his expression twisting as if his animal choice for me is the most obvious thing in the world. “You have these big, beautiful eyes. And when the sun hits your hair just right, there are darker red streaks that shine through like sugar glider stripes. Couple that with the number of times you’ve fallen in one way or another, intentional or not, I think it’s a pretty good fit.”
I can’t speak. Emotion wells inside me like a balloon and traps my words in my throat. Never in my life has someone even hinted that they’ve noticed things about me beyond my weight. Falco talks like he’s describing the most obvious aspects of me.
Does he really see me that way?
“Do you not like sugar gliders?” Falco asks as my silence drags on.
I swallow hard, shoving back the strange urge to cry and smile. “I love them.” They’re now my favorite animal.
“Dang,” Falco sighs. “Maybe I should reevaluate bears.”
Dinner continues much the same. Other than typical answers to generic questions like color and favorite holiday destinations, Falco doesn’t reveal much about himself other than his preference for mountains over beaches.
Too much sand pisses him off.
The world is dark and quiet by the time we’ve eaten our fill and exhaustion sweeps in to remind me that my bed is calling.
“Goodnight,” I call to Falco as he ushers me away from the washing up.
“Goodnight,” he replies, and I hold the tone of his voice in my mind all the way back to my room and under the covers.
A sugar glider.
Never would that have crossed my mind. Nestled amidst the pillows and wrapped in countless blankets for comfort, I close my eyes and begin replaying every interaction with Falco.
From the first time he rescued me at the dinner party all the way through to him sweeping me out of the river and carrying me back to shore.
What aman.
Over and over, I replay those moments of his arms around me, his lips so close that my own ache, the warmth of his touch, and the thump of his heart against my ear when he’s held me.
