Ship It(29)

“Mind if I sit with you awhile?” he asks casually, like we’re old friends or something. “Rico keeps trying to make me watch YouTube compilations of returning soldiers surprising their dogs, and it’s driving me bonkers.”

“Oh, um. I guess?” I’m not sure what he wants from me, but maybe he’s going to apologize. I look past him and see Ms. Greenhill making her way to the front of the bus from the back. She gives me a warm smile as she passes, but now I’m suspicious. Did she tell Forest to come talk to me? I can’t be sure what’s real and what’s not with her.

“So, where you from?” Forest asks, and I wonder if there’s a chance he’s just being friendly.

“Pine Bluff, Idaho?” I doubt he’s heard of it. “It’s small.”

“Oh sure, I know all about small towns. I grew up in my share of tiny Coast Guard towns,” he says.

“I thought you were from Oklahoma,” I say. Then, realizing that sounds stalker-y, I add, “Sorry if that’s weird that I know that.” Even though that’s only the tip of the iceberg of things I know about Forest Reed. I don’t mention that I also know his birthday (May 7), his favorite food (bibimbap), his childhood dog’s name (Lady Bark Johnson), his first car (1995 silver Ford F-150), and a lot of other things. Forest hasn’t done a ton of interviews, but I’ve read everything I could find.

“My dad was in the Coast Guard, and we moved around a lot,” he says. “But when he retired when I was a teenager, he said he wanted to move as far away from the coast as possible. Thus, Broken Arrow, Oklahoma.” He flourishes Broken Arrow like it’s a fabulous getaway destination. I haven’t been there, but I’m guessing it’s not that fabulous. It’s weird that I didn’t know this, too. He must be private about it because he’s never mentioned it in an interview.

“But enough about my old man. Tell me about Pine Bluff. How small is small?”

“Minuscule.”

“How many Dairy Queens y’all got?”

“None.”

“None?! Claire, that is unacceptable. Good god, you gotta get out of Pine Bluff immediately.” He turns to the rest of the bus, and hollers, “Can someone get this girl a Peanut Buster Parfait stat?” A few people turn around and look, but most ignore him. It makes me laugh, in spite of myself.

He turns back to me and whispers, like it’s our secret, “I cannot live without DQ. It’s my one weakness.”

“Pretty tame, as far as weaknesses go,” I say.

“Yeah, maybe so.”

He smirks in such a way that he looks just like Smokey, and for a second, that’s all I see, like I’ve been transported right into the show.

There’s a click, and I look up to see Caty has just taken a photo of us. I look back at Forest, and he arches his eyebrow in a way Smokey never would, and suddenly he’s the actor again and this is the real world. I blink hard and look back at Caty.

“For social,” she says. “You guys should do a selfie, too.” I stare at her. I had almost forgotten that this is all just for show. “Only if you want to, though. It’s not in your contract or anything.” She shrugs and goes back to her seat.

Forest seems unfazed. Of course he is; he knows all of this is an act. Something that looks good on camera, online, but isn’t actually real.

“So what’s old Pine Bluff have to offer, anyway? You got a boyfriend back home?” Forest nudges me playfully.

I am not going to tell Forest about Kyle Cunningham, but I still have to hold back a shudder as an image of Kyle comes unbidden to mind. He and I were never officially dating, but we did, well, some of the things people who are dating do. It makes me question myself every time I think about it. If I couldn’t see how gross and dumb Kyle Cunningham was then, how can I trust my own instincts about anyone ever again?

For instance, I used to think Forest Reed was sensitive, intelligent, and handsome. Now I wonder if he’s a Kyle Cunningham in celebrity’s clothing.

“No boyfriend,” I say.

“Cool, cool. This trip’ll be more fun that way anyway. Maybe we’ll find you someone in Portland, huh?”

Oh, so now we’re going to just hang out in Portland like old buddies as he plays wingman to help me pick up boys. What makes him think I even want that? There he goes again, just assuming people are straight, just like he assumes Smokey is straight. Am I straight? I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, but I sure as hell am not going to say that to Forest Reed, who thinks being gay is something to laugh at, or be embarrassed of.

I watch the highway and trees whipping past out the window.

He leans over to try to catch my eye. “Hey, what’s up, what’s wrong?”

I look at him squarely. “You’re being nice to me now, but it doesn’t really change anything, does it? You think I’m crazy.” He starts to protest. “You said so, Forest. And now you have to be friendly to me because some PR lady is telling you to, but you’re still exactly the same. You think I’m watching your show for the wrong reasons.”

Forest stares for a moment. “I’m sorry if I made you feel bad.”

“That’s not really an apology.”

“Well, I can’t change everything I know about a character just because you want me to.”