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“Because she’s a burnt marshmallow, that’s why.”
“I like burnt marshmallows.”
“I mean like so burnt it’s a carcinogen.”
“Ah,” I say. “So, what’s the reason?”
I lean my fork against the side of the take-out box and sit back in my chair, folding my arms in front of me, my focus on her.
She studies my face for a second, like she’s doing the math on whether she should tell me.
“Remember how I told you about the car accident and losing my scholarship and all that?” she finally says.
I nod, urging her on.
She adjusts herself in her chair, moving her butt out to the edge and then leaning back, her legs stretched out in front of her. This might be a Lucy Price stall tactic.
“I’m waiting, Price,” I say, my voice a tease. I like calling her by her last name. It should feel more professional, instead it feels like the opposite. Something I just do with her.
She lets out a little sigh. “Well, I guess I’ve been sort of ... stuck since then.”
“Stuck? Like how?”
She bobs her head from side to side. “Just not doing anything aside from working and spending time with family.”
I lift my shoulder and then drop it. “Isn’t that how life goes? We all kind of do that.” I’m doing that now—at least the work part. Old me would be appalled.
“Yeah, but ... I’m comfortable. Maybe too comfortable.”
“Ah,” I say, understanding. “So, you’re trying to shake things up?”
“I guess,” she says. “It wasn’t my idea. Well, actually it was my idea. But Morgan is the one who ran with it. And now she’s got me doing this silly challenge. Each day something different.”
I stare at my food for a few seconds, taking in her words. They resonate with me. I’ve been feeling stuck too, I guess. Especially since I ditched my old life. All I do is work now. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I’m in a rut of my own.
“Wait,” I say, something dawning on me. “Yesterday—”
“Yes,” she cuts me off, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.
“That was part of it? The challenge?”
She reaches up and covers her face with both hands. “I thought we were on the same page.”
“What?”
“That we were going to pretend like that didn’t happen.”
“Sorry,” I say through a chuckle. I wasn’t going to bring it up, but now I need to know. “But was it the challenge?”
She nods, her face still buried in her hands. She releases them and looks at me.
“The challenge was to do something out of character,” she says.
“Got it,” I say. “And that was out of character for you?”
“So incredibly much, you have no idea.” She looks away. “If you could maybe put that from your mind, I’d really appreciate it. Just, like, bury it.”
“It’s forgotten,” I say.
