“Being here keeps me close to him. Yes.”
Danny is remarkable.
“Want to play a game?” he asks randomly.
“Um, okay. Sure.”
“Tell two truths and one lie, and we guess which is which.”
This supposed game seems weird, but I agree. “Fine. You go first. Two truths and one lie.”
“I can eat pickled jalapeños for days and never break a sweat. I once ran over a hedgehog on my dirt bike and took it to the vet and then paid for its cremation. And I love to dress up in a proper suit and tie.”
“You don’t seem to love vegetables, but I can see you loving heat. And a jalapeño isn’t that hot. Second, you’re an animal lover, so that piece rings true. Tragic but true. And the third?” This guy is all about his jeans and tanks and muscle shirts, all of which would normally look douchey on most guys, but these are his daily clothes, and they’re who he is. Informal, hardworking, unaffected.
“The suit thing is a lie,” I say with confidence.
“Fine, you got me.” He shrugs. “Although it’s not totally a lie because it’d probably be fun to get all dressed up, but I’ve never had a reason to.”
“I get that.” But now that he’s raised the visual of him in a suit…
“Now, you,” he says.
“Fine, hedgehog killer. Give me a minute.” The boat rocks a bit when I move in my seat. “I have never watchedThe Handmaid’s Tale. My second? When I was young, I used to say, ‘G’bless me,’ when I sneezed.” After a beat, I continue with my third, “And I once burned spaghetti while boiling it.”
“Oh, please. You thought mine was easy? Every girl I know has watchedThe Handmaid’s Tale, so that’s your lie!”
I give him a friendly but smug smile, and he groans. “That show sounds so completely depressing and awful. Not watching!”
“Shit, really? Damn. I’ll have to keep getting to know you.”
“Same.”
“So, the ‘G’bless me’ thing is true? It’s pretty damn cute.”
I nod.
Danny pulls the oars over again. “Okay, another game. What’s your most irrational fear?”
“Getting arrested for a crime I didn’t commit and rotting in jail for twenty years. It makes me shudder to think about this. Yours?” I ask.
“Being forced to sing with a hologram of a dead celebrity.”
I laugh. “That seems unlikely to happen.”
“So does you getting arrested. Particularly in Wake.”
“I don’t strike you as the dangerous sort?” I ask with feigned insult.
He winks. “Well, I didn’t say that.”
For a long spell, he rows without talking.
“I don’t sleep much,” he eventually says. “And you don’t sleep much either, do you?”
“No. I don’t sleep much,” I agree. “Or well. Plenty of bad nights. Anxiety dreams, I guess. I’m always driving a car backward down a winding road. Or trying to drive it from the backseat. Out-of-control cars make routine appearances.”
“Oh, I know those.”
