“All right,” the man relents, smiling, and he extends an arm to escort us onto the next lift.
Before I can change my mind, we’re boarding a swaying chair behind the groping college-aged couple. Each seat accommodates two people, snugly, and though we’re covered by a plastic yellow-and-black striped bonnet above, it leaves our torsos exposed. ?is means (A) the coastal wind whips through the chairlift against our backs, and (B) we have a perfect view of the lovey-dovey couple ahead of us and their roaming hands. Terri c.
?e operator pulls a handlebar down that locks us in around the waist. I sneak a glance at Porter. I didn’t expect to be sitting so close to him. Our legs are almost touching, and I’m wearing a short skirt. I make myself smaller.
“Fifteen minutes up,” the operator says as he walks alongside our slow-moving chair, “ fteen minutes back down, whenever you’re ready to return. Enjoy yourselves.”
And we’re off. My stomach lurches a little, which is stupid, because we’re not even off the ground yet; these Bees need more zippity-do-dah.
“You all right, there, Rydell?” Porter asks. “Not afraid of heights, are you?”
“Guess we’ll nd out,” I say as my dragging toes leave the ground and we begin to take ight, ever-so-slowly.
“You’ll love it,” Porter assures me. “It’ll be great when we hit the fog in a few minutes.”
Once the lift operator ambles away to the gate, out of sight, Porter unzips his jacket a few inches and sticks his hand inside. A second later, he’s pulling something out. It’s cream colored and about half the size of a golf ball. I smell vanilla for one glorious second before he shoves the whole thing in his mouth.
His eyes close in pleasure as he chews. “Mmm. So good.”
“What is that?” I ask.
“Illegal to eat on the Bees,” he reminds me, slipping his phone out of his shorts pocket. “You sure you want to break the rules?”
I skipped breakfast. I was too nervous about meeting Patrick. What a dork. I still can’t believe that all happened. It’s like a bad dream that I can’t shake. And now Porter’s got warm vanilla wafting up from his jacket, right in my face.
“What the hell, Porter?” I whine. “It smells really good.”
“Gracie did mention that you’ve got a mean sweet tooth when it comes to pastries.” He’s ipping through his phone, digging out another ball of whatever it is he’s got. I think it’s a vanilla mini muffin. I smell coconut, too. ?at might just be him, though.
“See if I tell her anything again,” I complain, kicking my feet as we lift a little higher off the ground.
“Here we go,” he says, nding something on his phone. “New quiz. Let’s make a deal.”
“NO QUIZZES.”
“I’ll be nice this time,” he says. “Promise.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’ve got a pocketful of moon muffins,” he says with a slow smile.
I don’t know the hell that is, but I really want one. My stomach growls.
“Wow, Rydell. You have a dragon living inside there, or what?”
My head lolls forward as I make little weepy noises. I nally give in. “Okay, but if you piss me off while we’re stuck on this stupid ying bumblebee, just know that my nails are sharp, and I will go for your eyes.” I ash him my freshly painted ruby reds,
led to a vintage almond shape.
He whistles. “Pointy. ?at’s one glam manicure. And here I was, thinking you were aloof. Sugar brings out the demon in you. Porter likey.”
I get a little ustered, but not enough to stop wanting the muffins.
“So here’s how this works. First”—he pulls out one of his prizes—“this is a moon muffin. Local Coronado Cove specialty. Fresh out of the oven over at Tony’s Bakery right there.” He points backward. “You think you like those sugar cookies at work? Well, you’re going to love this.”
He holds it in the tips of his ngers. I snatch it up, give the sniff test, and then tear it in two, ignoring him when he acts like this is a mistake. I taste it. Totally lovely. Spongy. Light. Dusted in vanilla sugar. “Yum,” I tell him.
Porter makes a victory face. “Told you. Okay, quiz time. ?is one is for both of us. It’s a … friendship quiz. We both have to give answers and see how we match up. To see if we’ll make compatible friends or bitter enemies.”
