Yours Truly (Part of Your World, #2)(51)

Briana bit the tip off a fry. “What the heck was wrong with her? I’ve known you like three weeks and even I know you’d hate that.”

I pinched off a small piece of hamburger and held it under the couch. A moment later a soft mouth took it. “It’s not her fault. She always meant well. She’s just a people person, she likes parties. I was the one who always ruined things.”

I felt Briana studying me and I looked up. “What?”

“You know that it’s not your fault that you don’t like that stuff, right? There’s nothing wrong with you.”

I didn’t know what to say in response to that.

She pivoted to look at me straight on. “Have you ever heard that quote if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it’s stupid?”

“Yeah…”

“Sounds like Amy really likes hanging out in trees.”

I laughed a little.

“I will never judge you for how you climb a tree, Jacob. And you should know that you are an exceptional fish.”

She held my gaze, and I smiled and looked down at my lap. I didn’t know that I needed to hear this. But I did.

I put so much of the blame of what happened between me and Amy on myself, it didn’t even occur to me to look at it another way. And for just a moment, I allowed myself to believe that maybe I really was a fish put in a tree.

“All right,” Briana said, sitting back into the sofa. “Would You Rather. Are you ready?”

I pinched off another piece of burger and held it under the couch. “I’m ready.”

“Would you rather be a reverse centaur or a reverse merman?”

“Like, a man with a horse head or a fish head?”

“That is correct.”

I thought about it. “A centaur. I don’t love the idea of not being able to blink.”

“Or breathe. You’d have to live in the water. Things would be very shrively.”

I chuckled.

“Your turn,” she said, taking an exploratory bite of her burger.

“I need to Google questions. I can’t just think these up on demand,” I said, pulling out my phone.

I scanned a Would You Rather question list. “Okay. Would you rather fight flying monkeys or infinity ants?”

She swallowed. “Flying monkeys,” she said without thinking about it. “The ants won’t ever stop. That was too easy, give me another one.”

I looked again. “Would you rather know the history of everything you touch, or be able to talk to animals?”

She scrunched up her face. “I don’t like either of those. Either way I’m going to be honor bound to solve unsolved mysteries for the rest of my life. But if I had to choose, animals.”

“You don’t like unsolved mysteries?”

“I do, but I don’t want that to be my job. I only solve murder mysteries for fun.”

I gave her an amused look.

“My turn,” she said. “Would you rather name your kid whatever you want, or name your kid after an internet provider in exchange for eighteen years of free Wi-Fi?”

I laughed. “What? Like, Xfinity or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Xfinity isn’t awful,” I said.

“So it’s a yes? You’d do it?”

“How much is this free Wi-Fi I’m getting?”

She bobbed her head. “Well, assuming you’re getting the premium plan for bequeathing them your firstborn—seventy-five, maybe a hundred dollars a month?”

“Over eighteen years that’s probably about twenty thousand dollars in savings. Yeah. I’d do it.”

She gawked at me. “You’d make your kid live their whole life with that name for twenty thousand dollars in savings? I’d pay twenty thousand dollars for my kid not to have that name.”

“What? It’s not like I named her CenturyLink. Xfinity’s a nice name.”

“If you’re a horse in a Disney movie.”

I twisted to look back at her and made my face serious. “There is nothing wrong with Xfinity pulling her weight around here. Childcare is expensive.”

“Wow. It is sad how easily bought you are. At least she’ll be able to Google therapists.”

“We could call her a nickname and she could legally change it once she turns eighteen.”

“What’s her nickname? Password?”

I grinned. “Well, what nickname would you give her?”

“Ava,” she said without even thinking about it.

“Why Ava?”

“Because I like that name. If I ever get a dog, I’m going to name her Ava.”

The cat slid out from under the sofa.

Briana blinked at it. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

Cooter sniffed me. Then sniffed Lieutenant Dan. Then the cat came back around and rubbed his head on my hand and let me pet him. “Hey, there.”

She shook her head. “How did you do that?” she asked, her mouth open. “He’s been hiding for weeks.”

“Move slowly, talk softly, and offer food,” I said, talking to the cat in a low voice.

She grabbed three fries, dipped them in ketchup, and bit the tops off. “I am impressed.”