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He didn't let her pull away, bringing her back to his side. "Just the stereotypical shit. In middle school I was the self-conscious skinny guy. I was always getting called out of class to handle stuff related to my diabetes and other health crap. The weak get targeted; it's the law of nature. A bunch of guys stripped me down in the locker room at PE and shoved me into the girls' area."
As she winced, he grimaced. "That wasn't nearly as bad as the epileptic seizure I had because of the stress. They all bolted, except this one girl, who called the coach and put one of her books in my mouth so I wouldn't bite through my tongue. She had an epileptic brother. She was also one of the prettiest girls in the ninth grade."
"Oh, Des."
He shook her head. "That wasn't the most embarrassing thing. Every time she saw me after that, she was really kind to me. Probably because she knew how her brother had to deal with the same thing, but I was a stupid seventh grader. The other guys would pat me on the head after she talked to me, mocking me, making me feel like she pitied me. One of them told me I was her little pet. When I denied it, he dared me to steal her bra out of the locker room and hang it over the school entrance with her name written on it."
Julie stopped. "You didn't."
He gave her a pained look. "I did. I'll never forget her face when she knew it was me. That was the most shameful, embarrassing moment of my life, because I'd repaid her kindness with being a shit, just because I wanted not to feel like a special needs kid. Which is exactly what I was, of course. I'd like to say I've improved since then, but I still don't really like getting a lot of attention over it, as you already know. But at least I've evolved. I don't retaliate with underwear theft."
"Progress." She linked arms with him. "Did you apologize to her?"
"I did. She didn't forgive me, understandably, but I've always hoped when she became an adult, she understood better why I did what I did and realized I was just a dumbass kid who didn't know better."
"Or she morally disintegrated from your unkindness and now grifts old ladies out of their social security. Which she spends on heroin instead of caring for the three kids she's had from all different fathers."
"Oh, thanks for that. Come here."
She shrieked and dodged as he made a grab for her, setting off an impromptu chase to the edge of the manmade lake. He caught her there as she tried to feint around him and he took her down to the ground, albeit gently, as if knowing she might still be sore from her Pablo experience. Julie had loaded up on ibuprofen, though, so she wouldn't mind if he was a little rough. Des handed out a far more pleasurable kind of pain.
Her reaction probably showed when he pinned her wrists. She quieted as his hands closed around them, holding her arms to either side as he bent over her.
"I like how you get when I hold you like this," he said. "Quiet, like a bird cupped beneath my hands. Waiting."
Her breath went somewhere else at his intent look. But either he realized they were in a too-public venue for such intimate play, or he recalled they were supposed to keep this casual, because he eased off, though his fingers caressed her wrists.
"Want a snack?" He pulled out one of the sandwiches from his pack and offered her half. As they chewed in companionable silence, they shared a bottle of water while sitting on the grass shoulder to shoulder. He posed the next question.
"Worst moment of your life?"
"It'd be hard to top the one you just described."
"That was the most embarrassing. Nowhere near the worst. My childhood is one big tragedy." He winked at her. "It's why I'm so warped now. You're avoiding."
"A little bit. I don't really want to go there. Okay?"
"All right. But you can tell me sometime, Julie. It'd be okay."
She met his gaze, and believed him. "What about you? Can you answer the question?"
He found a napkin in the tote and used it, offering her half. "I don't really think of my life that way. During a bad moment, I think of what's going to happen next, or what good I can get out of the bad, because there's usually something. I just don't think a
bout things being a worst moment."
"I like that." She ate most of her sandwich, but gave some crusts to the hopeful mallards and sharp-eyed imperious Canadian geese gathering around them.
"I always imagine them as a biker gang." She looked toward the geese. "Their wings like leather jackets, cigarettes dangling from their bills. I told Thomas that once, and he did a sketch of it for me."
"Who's Thomas?"
"One of my two best friends."
"Ah. The ones whose approval any potential suitors have to have." He had his arm propped behind her so she could lean on it as he ate his sandwich. When he looked toward her, their faces were distractingly close. "I know how women are about their BFFs liking their boyfriends," he said. "Are they very intimidating? Just asking hypothetically, since this isn't a date."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "They're...well, a picture makes more sense." She called up the photo she had on her phone. It had been snapped at a nightclub where Marcus and Thomas had taken her dancing. When Des glanced at it, his expression became far more speculative, giving her stomach a nice roll.
"You have two male BFFs?"
