“I only watch movies I’ve already seen,” she explained.
He squinted at her, perplexed. “How do you watch something the first time?”
She pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. “Do you want to watch a movie or not?”
He shook his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Vertigoit is.”
Chapter 14
You Don’t Think I Could Take Him?
41 Days until Busy Season (or 71 Days until the Longest Day of the Year)
One film ofparanoia and deceit later, Waffle was showing no signs of leaving the truck. Instead, the dog circled between them until he reset himself into the perfect spot and promptly fell asleep. His soft breaths sucked the sound out of the air, bringing the truck cab to a hush as Elliot and Lainey rested their heads on the back of their seats.
“I was counting on you to have some convoluted scheme up your sleeve to coax Waffle inside.” Elliot’s voice was pitched low, like he didn’t want Waffle to overhear.
“You always think I’m up to something, don’t you, Hodges?”
“Not like that.” He rolled his head in her direction. “You have this…way about you. You always seem to know how to salvage a situation. I’m jealous of it.”
“That isnotthe way I see myself.”
“Well, it should be,” he said, his voice close. “I don’t think anything’s ever turned out the way I hoped it would. Though, to be fair, I don’t really hope, on principle.”
“You mentioned that,” she said, trying to grab on to thememory. “When you were proposing. That you’re, like, a nihilist or something.”
“I’m not a nihilist. I’m a realist. I focus on how things are and anticipate the way things might go wrong and prepare accordingly. If everything goes right, great. If everything goes wrong, I’m not the least bit disappointed.”
“That is…truly depressing.”
His laugh was low and infectious. The kind that rumbled in your chest and pulled out one to match. “Don’t tell me you’re some kind of optimist, Miss What’s Your Angle?”
“Unfortunately for me, I think I’m hopelessly optimistic. I’d guess most messy people are. Certainly artists are.”
He looked at her curiously. “Why do you say that?”
She pressed her lips into a line, considering. “I think…creativity is lonely and generally disastrous. There’s no reason to do any of it unless you have hope that the thing you might make in the end will be worthwhile. What’s the point of living in general if you don’t have any hope that the mess you’re making could turn out in the end?”
“Why does it have to turn out? What’s wrong with being content with the present?”
She lifted an eyebrow like a dare. “Don’t try to repackage your pessimism and I-don’t-hope-for-things shtick as some sort of living-in-the-moment mindfulness bullshit.”
“That voice! When you imitate me you make me sound like a Disney henchman.” He shook his head woefully. “It’s a good thing I’m not a romantic, or I’d already be married and you’d be stuck extorting the local pharmacist.”
“Yeah, why aren’t you married?” She dug her elbow into the window ledge and leaned her face into her palm. Somethingabout the turn of their conversation made her feel off-kilter, like she needed all the points of contact with the car she could get. “No offense, but you have the energy of someone who marries their college girlfriend to consolidate expenses.”
“Offense taken,” he answered, but his smile was unbothered. And a little wicked. “But I see where you’re coming from. I actually was engaged up until about a year ago.”
Caroline, she thought. Her mind scrolled the history of his Venmo transactions. The shared rent and utility payments. She couldn’t even imagine being in a relationship like that.
“God, it feels like ages ago,” he continued. “We were together for two years or so?”
Something like jealousy slithered along her shoulder blades. “Was she also in need of insurance?”
“No. You’re special.”
She knew he was only joking, but the thought had already stuck itself to her bones.
