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- Lucy -
He was looking out the front window, but hadn’t started the car.
“I guess it was good weird,” I said softly.
“Better than good,” he said, turning to look at me. “Don’t you think?”
I nodded.
“So how about I won’t be weird if you won’t be weird?”
“Does that work any better than I won’t think dirty thoughts if you won’t?”
A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes as he started the car. “Were you thinking saucy thoughts about me while you were working?”
“Maybe,” I said, looking out the window.
“Tell me something you were thinking about,” he said, pulling out onto the road.
I shook my head.
“Oh come on,” he said. “Prove you’re not an unimaginative prude.”
My jaw dropped. “I am not a prude.”
He leaned on his console and fixed his eyes on me. “Go ahead. Try and shock me. I dare you.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t want to play this game.”
“That’s a shame,” he said, stopping at a red light. “I think you would’ve really liked to hear what I was thinking about you.”
I swallowed.
“But if you don’t want to know then-”
“No,” I lied. “I don’t.”
He shook his head. “I guess I’ll just have to show you then.”
Was he crazy? I couldn’t talk like this with him. He was my friend. It was too awkward, too embarrassing, especially since I had no idea where his boundaries were.
I rested my elbow on the center console. “Well, you better show me that ice cream place first cause I’m getting hangry.”
“Hangry?”
“Yeah, hungry and angry. Hangry. Like Brad and Angelina. Brangelina."
“Oh,” he said, his brows coming together. “I think I get that sometimes.”
“You think?”
"I bet the Brangelina's don't get hangry."
"Probably not. What do they have to be hungry or angry about?"
“Say no more,” he said, laying his foot on the gas. “You’ll need energy for what I have in mind anyway.”
