I’m about to get into the car, but he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close, whispering against my temple. “Hey. You look beautiful. And you smell like hot apple pie.”
He lets out a little growl which instantly saturates my undies.
I wonder how muted my scent is.
He then lets out a not-so-little rakish laugh. He knows exactly what he just did to me.
“Hey,” I whisper and force down a swallow, because I could say something about the way he smells, too, but I’m trying to play it off like I didn’t just embarrass myself.
I’m just… stunned right now.
He closes the door, rounds the hood and gets in.
“Where are we going?” I ask when he starts up the car.
“Taking you to a carnival where we’ll pig out and I’ll win you a new stuffed animal.”
“Huh?”
“That stuffed wolf on your dresser is getting a little long in the tooth,” he says. “When did I win that for you?”
My heart skips a beat because he remembered my wolf that he won at a pack carnival when I was fifteen. “Ten years ago,” I tell him.
He continues. “After that, we’re going to a vintage drive-in that’s been doing a John Hughes marathon. Tonight it’s not Sixteen Candles, unfortunately. That was last night.”
So, thiswasintentionally aSixteen Candlestheme.
“Which one?” I ask.
“Double bill.The Breakfast ClubandFerris Bueller’s Day Off. You like those?”
I nod a little, getting my seatbelt fastened. “Yep. Sure do.”
“Drive’s about two hours, though. Can you wait or are you starvin’? We could hit a drive thru, but I know how much you like carnival corndogs and deep-fried cheesecake.”
“I can wait,” I say, a memory assaulting my senses where I was maybe six years old and had a glob of ketchup and mustard swirl on my nose while eating a giant corndog. Jase wiped it off with a napkin after his sister teased me for it.
I was crying because I didn’t know why Sherry was so mean to me. Telling me I smelled gross, because I’m half human. Then teasing me about following her brother around all the time. I wanted to be her friend. I thought she was pretty. I wanted to be everyone’s friend, but when I asked if I could come over and play Barbies with her just before that carnival, she accused me of just wanting to get close to Jase.
And Jase dabbed the napkin on my nose, flashed his dimples at me, and told me he loved corndogs with ketchup and mustard, too.
But that’s why I ate it that way, because I’d watched Jase pour ketchup and mustard on a paper plate and mix the sauce together with the tip of his corndog. To this day, on the rare occasion I eat one, I still eat it that way.
Not fixing things with Jase would mean I’d have far too many daily reminders of him. Because a whole lot of who I am comes from him, my source material, the blueprint for everything I wanted my life to be about. I followed him around so much thatmemories of him are woven into the fabric of pretty close to my entire life.
“How was your day?” I ask, a moment later, when we’re out of the village.
He gives me a funny look. “My day?”
“Did you have a good day?” I ask.
He shrugs. “It’s better now.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be a phony baloney.”
He looks indignant. “I’ll have you know I’m never, not ever a phony.”
It’s a little windy with the top down, so I reach into my bag for a hair tie and wind my hair into a bun at the back of my head.