“Neither?”
In spite of the dark cloud hanging over him, Dante smiled for real. And it felt good. “Is it multiple choice every time you ask me a question now?”
“Maybe, but to be fair, you started it.”
“Did I?”
“Dunno. Can’t remember.”
Neither could Dante, who rememberedeverything.
Maybe people do change.
Whatever. Sid was still staring at him like Dante held the answer to life’s great questions.
Dante sighed. “I don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Why you want to have dinner with me after what I said to you by the lake.”
“Why wouldn’t I? We have breakfast and lunch together every day. It’s not different, except you get access to my weed stash, and you said it helps your self-esteem, so...”
Sid’s grin was gentle, but irritation flushed through Dante all the same. “That’s not what I said.”
“Yeah, well. You’ve said a lot of stuff since we met. I can’t remember it all.”
“You should.”
“Are you trying to shock me, Dante?”
“What?”
Sid didn’t answer. Just stared some more, and Dante decided he preferred it when he was quiet like he had been all afternoon. Every conversation that wasn’t about plants seemed to intensify before he could stop it, and he couldn’t stomach another one. Not with that damn fucking envelope burning a hole in his pocket.
Quieting his thoughts with a spliff was tempting, though. Almost as tempting as the prospect of spending the evening with Sid instead of his own thoughts, and perhaps sensing Dante wavering, Sid stepped forward again. “Come on,” he said softly. “We can smoke and talk some more. It doesn’t have to be about heavy shit.”
“What if shit is all I am? Heavy or not?”
“Mate, if you want to talk about literal shit, I have horse manure all over my legs.”
Dante glanced down at Sid’s legs and instantly regretted it. Dirty or not, Sid’s leanly muscled calves were a walking wet dream, especially in utility shorts. “How did that happen?”
“I dropped the bag, but that’s not really my point.”
“It should be. I’ve seen you lift bags three times that heavy. If you dropped it, then it’s my fault because I didn’t see that you needed help.”
Sid’s expression soured.
Dante offered him a saccharin smirk in return. “See? You don’t want to have dinner with me.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
“Why not? And why don’t I get to decide?”
“I already told you why not a thousand times, and you can decide all you want, just prepare to be wrong.” Dante turned away with iron-clad intentions to be anywhere but in the snare of whatever Sid was feeling right now.