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“Good grief.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her along with me. “Follow me before you barrel over a kid or something.” I led her through the throng of people and found us on a bench near the perimeter of the park.
We sat. She finished her elephant ear, offering me some halfway through.
“Gross,” I said.
She gave me a long laugh. “I knew you’d be too uppity for an elephant ear!”
“You’re the queen of words and you use ‘uppity’ to describe me? What does that even mean?”
“Snob, posh, fancy, I could keep going.”
I groaned. “Point made.”
“Where’s your costume?”
I pulled my shirt open slightly, revealing the blue undershirt and signature S.
“That’s cute,” she laughed, finishing the last of her dessert.
“It’s clever,” I said. “It was a last-minute costume, arguably more functional than a sheet over my head.”
“Fair point.”
“Then take it off.”
“No,” she said, pulling out her phone. “I like being invisible. You should try it. I’m sure we can find you a sheet.”
“I’m good.”
“Sorry I didn’t respond to your texts, I would have told you where I was.” Her voice was soft, like she just admitted something embarrassing, a small plea not to laugh. “I’m bad about checking my phone and even worse about responding.”
“I’m aware,” I said. “I don’t mind, I just hope you’re aware I don’t plan on stopping.”
“Fair enough.”
And then I did something stupid. “I can’t write you a story to make you feel something.” The words just tumbled from my lips and I hurried to add more. “But I can make you feel something with one stroke of a pen.”
She was quiet for a long while and I so badly wanted to see her. She was right; the sheet was thin and in the right light I could make out her dark hair and eyes. Her cute little nose stuck out and sometimes the breath from her lungs made the sheet shake just a little.
“Alright,” she eventually said. It’s like she knew this was strange and uncomfortable for me.
I stood and grabbed her hand. “Follow me, I need a notebook and my favorite pen.”
She laughed a little. “I’m intrigued now.”
My mind spun, looking for the best subject and I just couldn’t put a finger on it. But the creative thing inside me grew, and I knew as soon as I held that pen something good would come. Maybe this was what writers meant when they chased the muse or whatever.
“Where are we going?” Her voice was on the cusp of breaking into laughter and I wanted more.
“To my truck.” I led her through the booths and people and a few streets away from the chaos to the parking lot. I unlocked the truck before we got there and I pulled down the tailgate. I pointed to it. “Sit.”
She did, and I rummaged around in the cab for my notebook and pen. I joined her on the tailgate, gripping the notebook hard. “We’re alone now. You can take off your mask.”
“I’m not wearing a mask,” she countered.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s the same thing. No need to be anonymous out here. Besides, I want to know I have your undivided attention. To make sure you’re getting the full scope of what I have to offer.”
She paused for a moment, breathing in deep. “This isn’t a date,” she whispered, finally shedding the sheet.
