“I promise I won’t laugh. Pinky promise.” He sticks out his pinky.
I take his finger. “Pink. I like pink.”
“Pink is a perfectly acceptable color. Why would I laugh?”
I shrug. Because pink is “girly,” because for some reason even colors have been assigned gender. Because I’m supposed to be a boy, and boys aren’t supposed to like pink.
“Is there a particular shade of pink that you’re fond of?”
“I thought it was my turn?”
That makes him laugh. And I notice for the first time how breathy it is, the way his chest moves, and how his mouth somehow gets bigger, even though that seems impossible. “Touché, De Backer. So what’s your question for me?”
“You said you moved when you were young.” There is something I want to ask him, but it seems like too much.
“True, but not exactly a question.”
“Do you like it here?”
“It’s nice. I’ve made a lot of new friends, but sometimes I miss my old ones. Didn’t really have a choice.” He tries to laugh it off. “Mom got a better job offer, and we couldn’t pass it up.”
“Oh, that sucks.” He seems so subdued in an instant.
“What about you? Do you like it here?”
I pick at the grass absentmindedly. “It’s nice,” I say, really not knowing what else there is to say. “The whole city thing is taking some getting used to. Goldsboro’s a small city. The kind where everyone pretty much knows everyone, and you’re somehow related if you look far enough up a family tree.”
“Ugh,” Nathan scoffs. “I hate the country.”
“It’s quiet,” I add.
“Sometimes a little noise isn’t such a bad thing.” Nathan sits up to fold up his sandwich and leaves it beside mine. “Your turn.”
“All right.” I rock back and forth, trying to think of what I can ask. “And I can’t pass?”
“Nope!”
“Okay. You like to read, what’s your favorite book?”
Nathan leans back and lets out a low, long groan. “How could you make me choose?”
“Stop avoiding, Allan.” I grin. “I’ve answered your tough ones.”
“But this is about books!” Nathan scoots in closer. “Out of all the ones I’ve read, you expect me to pick just one favorite?”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, whiny baby, I’ll amend it. What is your favorite kind of book?”
“Much more manageable,” he says. “Still tough, but I think I could answer it.”
“Are you planning on doing that anytime soon?” I ask.
“Smartass.” Nathan lets out this low laugh. “I like the kind I can lose myself in, the ones that let me get away for a hundred pages at a time.”
“Huh.” I stare at him for a few seconds.
“Acceptable for you?” He’s still grinning.
I nod. “For now. Your turn.”
Nathan takes a deep breath, I watch the slow rise and fall of his chest. “Okay, waffles or pancakes?”
“Seriously?” I eye him.
“Answer the question, De Backer.”
“Waffles.”
“The right answer. Clearly the superior breakfast treat.”
“Is that a deal breaker?” I ask.
“You mean choosing between some soggy, cakey mess, and a delicious treat? No, not at all.”
“What about French toast, or crepes?”
“Well, they’re perfectly fine substitutes, but the waffle has everything. It’s crisp—”
I stop him. “There’s that word again.”
Nathan rolls his eyes and just keeps going. “It’s the perfect shape, with little syrup holders, and you can have so many flavors too.”
“Wow, a real Waffle Master.” I’m trying not to laugh.
“It’s a serious matter, Mr. De Backer.” He’s still laughing. “Okay, now you.”
I don’t think it’s actually my turn, but if he insists. “Do you want to write one day?”
“Maybe? I don’t care for fiction, writing it anyway. I like writing papers and things like that, the research. It’s fun.”
“Really?”
“I just like it. I always learn something new when I have to write a paper” is all he says about that. “What do you like to do? I mean besides draw.”
I turn on my side so I can lie down beside him. “That’s pretty much it.”
“You don’t have any other hobbies?”
“Not really.” I stop myself. “Dad and I didn’t do much together.” I think this might be the first time I’ve properly discussed my parents with Nathan. “Mom likes to cook, and I’d help her sometimes.”
I wait for him to ask about Mom and Dad, but he doesn’t. Nathan just keeps looking forward. “Your turn,” he says quietly.
“Do you have any secrets?”
He doesn’t answer right away, which scares me. Clearly this isn’t the easiest question, but it’s out there before I realize it. “That sounds ominous,” he finally says. “I can promise you I’m not an axe murderer or anything.” Nathan turns over on his side, using his arm as a pillow.
“I didn’t mean like that. Like nothing bad.”
“So what do you mean?”
“Just like … Is there a secret you have, that shouldn’t be a big deal? That you should be able to tell people, but you just can’t? Like, it isn’t even a bad thing, but it feels like people will think it is.”
I expect him to laugh in my face, call me some sort of freak. Or prod and poke at me until I tell him the truth. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” His words surprise me. He speaks slowly, his brown eyes staring right into mine. “And it’s terrifying.”
“Sorry.” I try to laugh. “Didn’t mean to get so deep.”
“No, it’s cool. Just a little unexpected.” He takes in a heavy breath, his chest rising and falling. “I put my milk in my cereal first.”
It’s so random I can’t help but laugh at him. “What?”
“When I make cereal, I put the milk in first. It’s just always tasted better that way.”
“How can it taste different?”
He shrugs. “Just does.”
“Is that your big, deep dark secret?”
“Not even close, but I can’t totally give away all my mystery. I do have to save some things.” He winks, and the temperature around me definitely rises.
I try to think about something I can share, but nothing as random as putting milk in a bowl before cereal comes to mind. “I put my socks and shoes on one at a time.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I do that thing where I put on one sock, then the shoe. Then the other sock, and the other shoe. One at a time.”
“Why?”
“Why do you put milk first?” I ask again.
“You got me there, De Backer.” He lets out this long sigh and smiles.
Watching a movie in a park is a totally different experience. For one thing, people sneak in drinks. No one gets wasted, but it makes the crowd rowdier. And there’s applause at famous lines, and when the Death Star blows up. There’s some sniffling at Leia’s hologram message, and people full-on bawling at the award ceremony, which probably has more to do with the alcohol than anything else.