Again, But Better(93)

“Maybe let’s change the subject,” he adds hesitantly.

My lips turn up. “Okay.” I think for a moment. “How about you tell me the stuff you like? Stuff you find out on dates.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Everything. Like things! Stuff! I know some things, but give me more.”

He purses his lips.

I snort. “Do you need an example? Go ahead and ask me what I like,” I prompt.

“What kind of stuff do you like, Shane?” he asks, amused.

“Obviously Lost—Juliet inspires me. Harry Potter always makes me happy. I love walls full of pictures. If I ever build my own house, I’m making a room just for pictures, where I’ll plaster them on every surface. Extreme photo-albuming!” I pause for a second. “Black raspberry ice cream because it’s delicious, but mostly because it’s a wonderful purple color, and it doesn’t taste like grape. And I like when thunderstorms make the lights go out at night, and you’re stuck inside with your family using flashlights for hours. Everyone acts like it’s the worst and such an inconvenience. And it is, but the bigger part of me gets excited by the darkness, and the lack of technology, and the need for flashlights. It’s the best way to gather everyone around a table to play cards. No one’s distracted by anything, and you play by the candlelight, and you all watch the storm through the big back windows, but you stay away from the windows because you don’t want to get electrocuted.” I sigh, suddenly fighting off a wave of homesickness. The last time that actually happened, I was sixteen. The three of us were at Uncle Dan and Aunt Maria’s for dinner.

Pilot eyes me thoughtfully.

“Your turn,” I whisper.

“I’ve never met someone as outwardly passionate about their favorite things as you.”

“Well, things inspire me and make me happy and feel more understood … if I can give that to someone else by recommending my things, I want to.” The way he’s watching me, I feel like I’m under a spotlight. I swallow.

“So, your turn now,” I say quietly. “What things do you like?”

“I like mint chocolate chip ice cream,” he says, trying not to smile. I wait.

“Because…” I goad.

He looks thoughtful again. “Because it’s refreshing. Like when you walk out onto the street in the fall and the leaves are swirling around, and you get pummeled with the perfect amount of windchill.” I nod appreciatively.

“Music, guitar, records. Troubadours in the wild. The idea of living day by day, making music, brightening someone’s life with the things you make. The courage it takes to do something like that is admirable. They make me want to make things.

“Exploring places on foot with a real map, no GPS.” He pauses. “My family. I can really get behind a good game of cards.”

“So nothing too nerdy, then?” I ask.

“I like you.” He grins.

I smile down at the bed, closing my eyes for a second. “What a line. I guess I set you up for that.”

He continues, “I know you hate those chairs in the kitchen, but I can’t help but hold a special place for them in my heart. Watching that ongoing struggle, Shane versus chair, has brought me so much joy.”

I reach out my free hand and push his shoulder. He catches my elbow, slowly sliding his hand up to my mine and weaving our fingers together. I can feel the heat coming off him.

This has gone as far as I’d like it to in a room with two sleeping strangers. I sit up, twisting away to put my feet back on the floor in between our beds. I’m radiating dangerous levels of joy. The bed moves as Pilot sits up and scoots toward me.

“You okay?” he asks quietly. His concern fades when he finds me struggling to subdue the banana-sized smile spread across my cheeks. I bring my face close to his again, reveling in the electric feeling that sparkles over my skin. “I like you too,” I whisper. “I’ve changed my answer: five-star Yelp rating for date number two.”

He leans in to close a kiss, and I back out of reach.

“Good night.” I chuckle, rising from the bed.

“Hey.” He catches hold of my hand. I drop back down, grinning.

“Is this you officially surrendering to my whisper move?”

He scoffs. “Five-star Yelp rating, and no kiss at the end of the night? That just doesn’t add up.”

“Admit your surrender.”

He holds my gaze. I shrug and push off the floor to stand. He tugs me back, and I twist around, landing happily back on the bed.

“You win,” he concedes. His lips find mine, and they’re charged full of fire. I’m floating when I pull away.





15. Don’t, Don’t Know What It Is



In the morning, Pilot and I meet Babe and Chad in the lobby before heading to the Louvre. We wander the museum as a foursome. Chad uses the word bro fifty times more frequently than necessary.

We all climb to the first tier of the Eiffel Tower. I’m bursting with blissful energy. I dance my way across the landings and skip up the steps. When it’s time for tier two, Babe and Chad turn off toward the elevator.

Pilot meets my eyes with an impish grin. “So predictable.”

I’m drunk on excitement. Happiness. I’m really happy. And it’s intoxicating. I smile, turning my attention back to the first-tier view of Paris.