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“You read my mind.”
* * *
“We totally freaking earned this,”Esme said, as we both shoved fried chicken sandwiches in our faces. The trip down the mountain really hadn’t been that bad, but by the time we made it to the car, I’d been ready to eat one of my hiking boots, I was so hungry. As if by fate, there just happened to be a little park with a tiny food truck next to it right near the entrance to the mountain.
I couldn’t answer Esme because my mouth was full.
There was no stopping me until after I’d polished off a plate of chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting.
“That was amazing,” I said, putting my fork down after licking it clean.
“Perfect,” Esme said, and I realized she was gazing at me.
“Stop it, you’re going to make me blush,” I said. She reached out and took my hand. “I’m so glad I’m here with you.”
I squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad that I’m here with you.”
Louis Armstrong’s version of “La Vie En Rose” played over the speakers from the food truck, and I found myself swaying along. Esme stood up from the picnic table.
“Dance with me,” she said.
I looked around. “Right here?” There were a lot of people around since it was the dinner rush.
“Yeah, come on.” She made the cutest little pouty face I’d ever seen in my life, and if she would have asked for a vital organ, I would have picked up the knife on my plate and start carving it out for her.
Why not?
I got up and let Esme pull me into her arms. The moment we started swaying, I stopped thinking about who was watching. There was only the two of us, dancing next to a food truck.
“I’m really sorry if I’m sweaty,” I said. I’d like to see the person who could complete a hike without sweating buckets.
“I’ve been sweaty with you before, Paige. Remember?” she whispered in my ear. Oh yes, I did remember. And I couldn’t wait to get her back to my place so we could continue.
Stormy barked at us from the truck.
“I think someone is jealous,” I said.
“She’s just mad she has to share now. It’s fine, she’ll get extra treats later,” she said.
Esme and I kept dancing until Stormy really started making a fuss and we got back in the truck and gave her attention.
“We should probably get back anyway,” Esme said. “What did you want to do for dinner? We could stop and get something, or maybe, I could cook for you.”
I leaned closer to her, watching her hair blow in the breeze of the open window. Stormy snoozed contentedly in the backseat. If only we had Potato, and the fish, the gang would be all here.
“I’d love to have you cook for me,” I said. “I will warn you, I get a little territorial about my kitchen, but I’ll try and tone it down for you.” I trusted someone like Linley, for instance, to treat my kitchen right, but other people not so much.
“What could I possibly do in your kitchen that would harm it?” she asked.
“Wyatt set spaghetti on fire. I didn’t even know that was possible.” That boy was so pretty, but about as sharp as a doorknob.
Esme reached out to take my hand and kiss the back of it. “I promise not to set any spaghetti on fire.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
I couldn’t stop smiling.
* * *
