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Usually that was in relation to a lie that I’d said, but in this instance, it was good knowing that she was on my side already.
Harleigh: We’re a thing, by the way. It’s new. Don’t kill him, I like him. A lot.
Dad: When did this ‘thing’ happen?
Harleigh: I don’t know. Before we left, I guess. He lets me sleep in his hammock now without giving me shit first. Plus, I think he’s the **one.**
Dax: What the fuck? It’s been like a week and a half since I left. Why does it sound like you’re going to marry him?
Mom: Language, Dax. And you know that your sister is smart. Give her some credit. If she says he’s the one, he’s likely the one. That’s more than I can say about you.
That was true. My brother had plenty of girlfriends in his time, and according to him at the time of each girlfriend, they were the ‘one.’ And after each failed relationship, he added another tattoo, each more offensive than the one before it.
I wasn’t sure if the offensive tattoos were due to the fact that he was trying to fix whatever pain that he had going on in his heart thanks to the women that left him, or if he was trying to make it to where a woman wouldn’t approach him any longer with all the colorful tattoos. Whatever the reason, my brother was definitely more prone to throwing his weight in when it came to ‘the one’ than I was.
Me, I’d never shared with my family before about anyone. Not even my boyfriend in college that lasted an entire six months.
Dax: Shut up.
Mom: Dax, honey, we love you. How was your mission?
Dax: No. Mission.
Mom: Sure, sure. We’ll pretend that we didn’t know that you would be in Louisiana and make your way to Florida.
Harleigh: You’re in Florida? I’m in Florida!
Dax: I’m going to get my ass kicked, FYI. Shut. Up.
Dad: If they kick your ass, remind them who your father is.
Dax: Sure, that’s exactly what I’m going to say. Not.
Dad: I’ll say it then.
Dax: Don’t you dare.
Mom: We just want you to be happy, Dax.
Dax: I’d be happy if y’all would stop butting into my business.
Dad: The day we stop butting into your business is the day we’re dead. So think about that.
Dax: Shut up.
Dad: Now, Harleigh Belle, tell me you didn’t sleep with this guy already.
My face flamed.
Dax: She totally did.
Mom: I would have. Have you seen his body?
Dad: No, not really. He was just supposed to work for me, not do anything with my daughter.
Dax: I may or may not be close to Florida right now. Want me to go kick his ass?
I rolled my eyes.
“What are you smiling about right now, baby?”
My heart skipped a beat when I looked up to find Slate staring down at me.
He took a seat next to me and brought my ice cream to his lips, once again licking the drip off the back of my hand that I hadn’t seen.
“You and these things are dangerous,” he murmured.
I felt his lick deep in my core.
“I’m smiling about the fact that my brother just said he was close to Florida when my mom and dad have been giving him shit for the last ten minutes about a mission he refuses to say he’s on,” I explained.
He grumbled out an ‘oh,’ but kept his eyes on something across the walkway from us.
Charles.
Charles who was close enough to be listening to our every word.
Instead of asking Slate about him, I looked over and up at him and said, “Are you ready to go? I want to go get a nap in before we go back to the park tonight to ride the rest of our rides.”
We didn’t have any definite plans tonight—or today at all, really.
Everyone that had come with us had eventually split off into their own smaller groups. The only thing that we did at this point was meet up for dinner.
“You’re dripping again,” he murmured.
I looked down at the drip that had made its way all the way under my Magic Band—the band that I used for everything—to get on rides, to get into my hotel room, to buy lunch or dinner—and sighed.
“Who knew Florida would be this hot right now?” I grumbled as I took the Magic Band off and placed it on the seat beside me so I could get at the ice cream underneath it.
“Pretty much everyone,” Slate said. “I’m not sure Florida gets any hotter or colder than this, to be honest. I think it’s always this temperature. Maybe a little bit cooler, but not much. That’s why old people retire down here.”
I finished off the rest of my ice cream and stood up to toss my popsicle stick into the trash.
Slate followed me and waited for me to dispose of it before reaching for my hand.
