We’re both quiet as the minutes drag by, each more uncomfortable than the last. Now, I’m not only thinking about keeping me and Gage a secret from Annie, I’m also thinking about how Gage feels about keeping the secret and about how what he feels makes me feel.
I need a distraction.
I hold up my phone. “Do you mind if we listen to my audiobook?”
It’s a gamble, opening up to Gage about what I’m reading. I don’t share that part of me with many people. But maybe this offer of vulnerability will reassure him of the place he has in my life, or at least my life for the summer. And maybe I’m also hoping it will lessen the guilt I feel for lying to him about how much of my life he owns, even if he doesn’t know it.
Gage turns his face toward me, his eyebrows raised. “Not at all.”
He sits up taller in the driver’s seat and leans forward slightly as I connect my phone to the Jeep’s Bluetooth.
I pull up the app on my screen and hit play.
“The answer is,” a familiar upbeat voice narrates, “two dozen eggs.”
Gage listens intently as the narrator continues for a few sentences. “Is that … is that theJeopardyguy? The new one?”
I bounce my knee. “Ken Jennings. Yeah.” I pause the book.
The corner of his mouth tips up. “And this book is …?”
“Alex Trebek’s memoir,” I mumble, chewing the skin on the side of my thumb.
Gage laughs in surprise. “Why?”
My face warms. “I likeJeopardy.” I bristle, feeling self-conscious.
“Mm-hmm. I remember. We used to watch it together.” He grins at me. “But Alex Trebek’s memoir isnotwhat I was expecting when you were so cagey about your audiobook earlier this summer.”
I think back to that first weekend when I drove Gage into town and my audiobook began playing. I hesitate before responding. “Actually, at that point, I was listening to something Molly recommended about the history and ecology of the Great Lakes.”
Gage turns his head to look at me, curiosity and surprise in his expression, before focusing back on the road.
“It won a Pulitzer,” I add, clearing my throat.
Without taking his eyes off the road, he tilts his head toward me. “Was it … was it good?”
Again, I’m ready to take offense. “Why, because how could someone like me enjoy a serious, prize-winning nonfiction book?”
Gage glances at me again, this time confusion written all over his face. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. I just mean … why would you hide that from me? Or from anyone?”
I inhale, trying to calm my nerves. I’m choosing to share this part of me with Gage. It won’t help if I get defensive and jump all over him.
“I loved the book, but reading something like that doesn’t really fit with my persona. People don’t expect me to be deep.”
Gage frowns, his posture rigid. “They should, if they’ve ever spent five minutes talking to you.”
I sigh. “It’s easier to be the fun, sporty girl. That’s what I’m good at.”
He rubs a hand across his chin and shakes his head. “You’re good at a lot more than that.”
I scoff. “Are you still talking, or can I unpause the book now?”
Gage pantomimes zipping his lips shut and gestures for me to continue.
I start the book again, and we spend the rest of our trip listening to Ken Jennings narrate Alex Trebek’s personal anecdotes. We laugh at the same parts and make comments to each other.
All the while, my heart is adjusting, clicking into place, and nestling next to Gage’s. My imagination is fantasizing about a future where Gage and I fit, where we listen to audiobooks together and spend the evening discussing them. Where I can keep up with him, and he has no desire to leave me behind.
