My gut tenses. “I don’t know.”
“That’ll be the end of this. Won’t it?”
I run my hands up until I reach his jawline. I move his head so his eyes meet mine. “I don’t want this to be over. I’m alive when I’m with you.”
“But what about your…”
I shake my head. “None of it matters. I’m in this.”
A tentative smile flashes across his lips. “Really?”
“As long as you’ll have me.”
“Well, that’s a no-brainer.” His smile springs to life. “I’m totally hooked on you.”
Fifteen
Whenwegetbackonto the strip mall footpath, I ask Dax, “Do you feel like getting a smoothie?”
He snorts. “I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that.” When I give him a confused look, he adds, “And I don’t think I’ve ever had one.”
I throw my palms upward. “How is that possible?”
He mumbles a laugh. “I don’t really hang around anyone who’d get a smoothie. They’re more into soda or beer.”
I wince. “You drink beer?”
“Rarely,” he admits. “I’m just saying, smoothies are never an option.”
“Do you want one, anyway?”
He hangs an arm around my shoulders. “When in Rome.”
I clutch his hand hanging over my shoulder and lead him down the footpath. “Good, because the Raspberry Rush is calling my name.”
“Is that the name of the smoothie bar?”
“No, it’s the smoothie I want.”
His arm tenses around me. “Is this one of those ultra-colorful places with all the wacky drink names?”
My grin grows, loving his awkward reservations. “Oh, so you have been there before?”
He sighs out. “Oh, geez.”
I take Dax into the smoothie bar, and it’s so hard to fight off the fit of giggles exploding within me. He seriously looked more at ease during his tux fitting than he does standing here. With his hands stuffed into his jean pockets, his jaw flexes while his gaze wanders over the rainbow decals on the walls. It’s like his brain almost malfunctions when he spots the tall list of selections written on the wall in fun cursive chalk.
“Hey, how are you guys doing today?” says the chilled-out server. Behind the counter, he wears a green apron with a name tag saying, Chad.
“Hi Chad, we’re well,” I reply. “I’ll have a tall Raspberry Rush. Dax, what do you want?”
With a statuesque posture, Dax stares at the overwhelming list of items on the chalkboard.
I look back at Chad and smile. “It’s his first time here. Too many choices.”
“I hear that,” Chad replies with a cheesy grin.
Dax points to a selection. “Citrus Got Real,” he chooses. “I need to know if I’ve been drinking fake orange juice.”
