We eatour grilled cheeses at the nearest beach, perched on the hood of the SUV. She’s an armored car and not even a combined three hundred pounds can hurt her. The sun is bright and hot, and kids chase each other over the sand, screeching and giggling. An ice cream truck idles in the sandy parking lot.
When we take the exit for home later, the sun’s low rays are slicing directly through the windshield. We listened to a podcast about body language on the way from the diner. Tristan insists we need to redo my photos for the app based on what we learned.
The expert is talking now about how to stand out when you meet someone.
“It’s like a fruit basket,” she says. “If there are only pears and one pineapple, everyone will want the pineapple. Be the pineapple.”
Tristan snorts. Our blood sugar has been seesawing for hours. We’re high on gas station candy and way too muchsoda and grilled cheese, so the idea of being the pineapple makes me cackle.
“Be the pineapple, Bailey.”
“Excuse me. Are you saying I’m not already the pineapple?”
His eyes are merry as he darts me a glance. “Maybe you’d have more success with men if you were more like the pineapple.”
I growl. “Stop the car and I’ll show you a pineapple.”
He grins. “Uh-uh. Pineapples are passive by nature.”
“We are not.”
“So you admit it?” he crows, starting to laugh. “You have pineapple-shaped aspirations.”
“Am I not succeeding?”
He gasps a laugh as he pulls to a stop at a red light. “Try harder.”
I poke him in the shoulder. “You’re the one who is trying to attract a mate.Yoube the pineapple.”
He smirks at me. The indent below his lower lip deepens. “You’ve got it wrong. They’re trying to attractme.” I want to roll my eyes, but something about his low tone and his laughing eyes make my stomach shiver.
“Are any of them, um, pineappley for you?”
That shiver grows teeth. Why do I do this to myself?
“Nah,” he says lazily. He accelerates smoothly at the green light.
I am relieved. I have no right. One of them will be, one day, andthat’s a good thing.“Maybe they need to try harder.”
He tips his head to the side, smiling faintly. “Maybe.” He sounds like he wants to say more, like he has secrets inside that smile.
“What?”
He slides me an unreadable look. “Maybe I’d like them better if they were more like you.”
I don’t know what to say to that, except to tell myself that if this is the practice part of today, he’s doing a damn good job. And if he says that to any of his potential matches? I’d bet she wouldn’t stand a chance.
27
TRISTAN
We’re sticky and sun-warm and slaphappy when we get home. Katie keeps muttering “be the pineapple” under her breath, and it sends us into peals of laughter.
This is my favorite version of her. Where she forgets to be the bodyguard and stops worrying and justis.She turns and spreads her arms wide. “What do you think the essence of pineapple really is?”
I lean weakly against a lamppost, my shoulders shaking. “Bailey, you’re just mad you’renota pineapple and never will be.”
“Excuse me?” She gives me a mock-outraged glare. Her fiery hair shakes over her shoulders. She’s in the extra sweatshirt I always claim is for me but is always secretly for her. It covers her to mid-thigh. It looks like she’s been in my bed, and my body tightens.
