“What does that mean?”
“Phoebe keeps texting it to me. I’m ninety percent sure it’s not an insult.” He snorted and I felt myself glowing. “I really don’t mind. Driving, I mean. We still have the whole way home.”
His smile widened. “Maybe we’ll take the southern route. Hit every Waffle House along the way.”
“Crazy that you’d voluntarily deal with us longer than necessary.” I bumped his shoulder with mine. “You like us.”
“I do.”
“No complaints?”
“Very few.”
“Well, now you have to tell me.”
“The Twinkies.”
I gasped. “Those were gifts! Out of the kindness of my heart!”
“Anything else. Literally anything else, Vi.”
“Fine. Next time you’re getting a Moon Pie.”
“What the hell is a Moon Pie?”
“It has marshmallow in it.” He pulled a disgusted face and I laughed. “Tell me what else you like,” I urged, leaning in closer. His eyes drifted from my face down the slope of my neck, catching himself before dropping any lower. “I want to know you. You know so much about me.”
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
“What’s your favorite food?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Pad Thai.”
“Favorite color.”
His eyes dipped to my dress’s neckline. “Right now, green.”
Heat burned up my neck. “Stop.”
“This.” He took a lazy perusal of my body, and every part of me buzzed to life. “Yeah. That’s my favorite.”
“Such a charmer.” I pushed a piece of hair behind my ear and his eyes snapped to the movement. “Do you have any embarrassing hobbies? Like, truly embarrassing.”
“Every few months I’m overwhelmed by the desire to learn how to play the harmonica.”
That startled a laugh out of me. “What? Why?”
“When I transferred to Northeastern, I moved into a dormwith two guys. Gavin and Denny. Gav insisted the best way to bond was to form a band. For three guys with no musical prowess, he assigned us what he deemed the easiest instruments. I got the harmonica. Denny got the kazoo. Gav obviously gave himself the triangle.”
“Of course he did.”
He smiled, that not-dimple digging into his cheek. “Maybe it’s the nostalgia that gets me reaching for the old plastic harmonica he bought at the dollar store.”
“You still have it,” I said wondrously, though I’d come to realize Dex was a sentimental guy when it came to the people he loved.
“I do. And I’m just as terrible now as I was the day he gave it to me.”
“That’s so funny.” I rubbed my nose, hesitating before adding, “My dad played the harmonica.”
