Page 85 of I Wish You All the Best

“Is there a particular shade of pink that you’re fond of?”

“I thought it was my turn?”

That makes him laugh. And I notice for the first time how breathy it is, the way his chest moves, and how his mouth somehow gets bigger, even though that seems impossible. “Touché, De Backer. So what’s your question for me?”

“You said you moved when you were young.” There is something I want to ask him, but it seems like too much.

“True, but not exactly a question.”

“Do you like it here?”

“It’s nice. I’ve made a lot of new friends, but sometimes I miss my old ones. Didn’t really have a choice.” He tries to laugh it off. “Mom got a better job offer, and we couldn’t pass it up.”

“Oh, that sucks.” He seems so subdued in an instant.

“What about you? Do you like it here?”

I pick at the grass absentmindedly. “It’s nice,” I say, really not knowing what else there is to say. “The whole city thing is taking some getting used to. Goldsboro’s a small city. The kind where everyone pretty much knows everyone, and you’re somehow related if you look far enough up a family tree.”

“Ugh,” Nathan scoffs. “I hate the country.”

“It’s quiet,” I add.

“Sometimes a little noise isn’t such a bad thing.” Nathan sits up to fold up his sandwich and leaves it beside mine. “Your turn.”

“All right.” I rock back and forth, trying to think of what I can ask. “And I can’t pass?”

“Nope!”

“Okay. You like to read, what’s your favorite book?”

Nathan leans back and lets out a low, long groan. “How could you make me choose?”

“Stop avoiding, Allan.” I grin. “I’ve answered your tough ones.”

“But this is about books!” Nathan scoots in closer. “Out of all the ones I’ve read, you expect me to pick just one favorite?”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, whiny baby, I’ll amend it. What is your favorite kind of book?”

“Much more manageable,” he says. “Still tough, but I think I could answer it.”

“Are you planning on doing that anytime soon?” I ask.

“Smartass.” Nathan lets out this low laugh. “I like the kind I can lose myself in, the ones that let me get away for a hundred pages at a time.”

“Huh.” I stare at him for a few seconds.

“Acceptable for you?” He’s still grinning.

I nod. “For now. Your turn.”

Nathan takes a deep breath, I watch the slow rise and fall of his chest. “Okay, waffles or pancakes?”

“Seriously?” I eye him.

“Answer the question, De Backer.”

“Waffles.”