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“Yes.” I turn the ignition and put the car in drive. “I found the perfect spot for us.”
When I pull into the park, I show him the grove where the trees line in a crescent shape and flower petals fall from the tree blossoms. Chet’s eyebrows raise. “This is your perfect spot?”
I bite my lip at the surprise written on his face. “Yes.”
He laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll have to remember that. I thought you were taking me to the cemetery.”
“The cemetery?” I move over to a flat spot under the largest tree—it also has the best shade. I open the picnic basket and throw my hands over my ears to prepare for the long, loud squeal.
When the basket ceases the howl of being opened, I pull out the blanket and shake it flat. “It didn’t occur to me that the cemetery would be your ideal picnic spot.” I pause and chew on the idea. “But, now that I think about it, it does make perfect sense.”
I sit and pat the place next to me. Chet sits and takes my hand too. I place my head on his shoulder. “Listen.”
We sit silently as the birds chirp, the bees buzz, and the leaves rustle. “Isn’t it so peaceful here?”
Chet chuckles. “I guess we still have a lot to learn about one another. My idea of peaceful noise is a saw cutting through metal, bats squeaking, and spider webs blowing in the breeze.”
I lift my head to search his face.
His eyes are a deeper blue in this light. Chet’s intense gaze sends my heart fluttering, and I only smile. “I guess we have a lot to learn from and about each other.” I point to the basket. “I did find this beauty this past Sunday and thought of you immediately.”
Chet touches the wicker gingerly. “It is very nice.” His eyes sparkle. “But, what did you bring to eat?”
I pull out a pie, baloney, and cheese sandwich for Chet and a turkey club for me. Then, I hand him a bottle of his favorite soda. Scream-tastic-tangerine, with a diet cola for me. We sit and chew quietly for a few moments. Then, I look at Chet. “What is your favorite picnic memory?”
“Besides this one now?”
“That’s sweet. But it’s very much not true.” I blush and nibble my sandwich.
“It is true because I’m with you. But if you’re talking about other enjoyable picnics—” Chet burst out laughing. “One time, Fred lost an entire arm at the cemetery while eating there. He was trying to impress a specter who lived in the neighborhood. Let’s just say she wasn’t impressed.”
“Really? What was your food like at that picnic?”
Chet tapped on his chin for a minute. “Meat. Lots of raw meat.”
I made a face. “That doesn’t sound appetizing at all.”
“But, I’m a werewolf. We love raw, red meat. And, well, you know Fred is a zombie. So, if he’s not eating animal brains, he will chew on something raw.” Chet rubbed my hand. “How about you?”
After hearing about Chet's favorite raw meat picnic, I took a moment to get the food down my throat. I just can’t imagine eating that. But I guess I don’t have to. I’m neither a werewolf nor a zombie, so I’m lucky there. “Well, this is just how different we are.” I laugh in return.
“My family used to make these lovely cucumber sandwiches with dressing on white bread. They were in the shapes of flowers, stars, bees, bunnies… ” My voice trails off because it’s Chet’s turn to pull a face.
I laugh harder. “What is that look for?”
“What is the point of putting a wet vegetable on soft bread? How quickly does that go through?” He shudders and sticks his tongue out. “That all sounds too mushy for me.”
Chet continues. “Plus, why cut your food into little pieces? Does it somehow make it magical?”
I shake my head and see a bunny hopping by us. I flick my eyes to Chet, and he doesn’t pay any attention to it, but considering our conversation right now, I think it’s best not to point it out to him. I’m not sure how he would react. “No, no magical powers. It is just a cute thing to do. And fun. It’s cute and fun.”
“But, the food is small. Smaller than when someone makes it. Wouldn’t you have to eat a hundred before you feel full?”
“No. I don’t have werewolf metabolism.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
We finish eating. I lean back and watch the clouds go by. Chet lies next to me. “What are you doing?”
