She started walking off, and I shook my head.
Who was this damn girl?
“Aye, slow down,” I said, jogging to catch up. “Ducane Simmons. O-negative.”
“You know your blood type?”
“Universal donor.” I shrugged. “If you pass out or something, I got you.”
She stared at me.
“Is this you flirting?”
“Is it working?”
“No.”
“Damn.”
The corner of her mouth twitched.
“Look, Skye, I’m just trying to get to know you. I ain’t on bullshit.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Oh, I’m sure Miss Opinionated will. Give me an hour.”
She smiled and shook her head.
“Fine, but I want a big chocolate milkshake with a lot of whipped cream.”
“I’ll even ask for sprinkles.”
I grabbed her tote bag and slung it over my shoulder as we headed toward The Diner on the corner.
“I can’t believe you know your blood type.”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“Actually, no. About a third of Americans don’t know theirs.”
I looked over at her.
“You just got random facts loaded and ready to go? Is this your way of flirting?”
She laughed.
Finally.
The Diner had been a Coupeville staple since before either of us got there. Booths with red vinyl, a counter with spinning stools, Millie behind it, who had seen every version of every college student who had ever walked through that door.
She looked up when we came in.
“Your booth is open, I’ll be right with y’all.”
I led Skye to the booth in the back and slid in.
“You must come here often if you have a booth. I’m new here.”
