Page 27 of Burn With Me

“If you don’t want to go to the diner, we can find a sit-down place outside of town, but I’m good with a drive-through, and then we can head to the mini golf place,” I say.

“Well, we can see our options on the way,” he says as we walk to his truck.

His very large truck that I don’t think I’ll be able to get in easily. Luke is right behind me, ready to open my door.

“Why is your truck so tall?” I say over my shoulder as he opens my door.

“It’s not that tall, you’re just that short.” He chuckles and, grabbing me by the waist, lifts me up.

“I told you I’m not short. I’m fun-sized. I could have gotten in on my own,” I say.

“I know, but I’m trying to make a good impression here. So I was just helping.” He smirks as he closes my door, and I buckle up.

I put my hands in my lap and twirl my anxiety ring as he hops in.

“All right, I wanted to take you somewhere nice, but we don’t have many options here. So, it looks like, on the way, we have a McDonald’s, a Taco Bell, and Sonic. On the count of three, you’re going to say the first one that comes to your head, and that’s what we’ll get,” he says as he turns the truck on and backs out of the driveway.

I take a breath because he has no idea how refreshing it is that he doesn’t have the whole date planned out to the minute. Leo used to do that, and he wasn’t flexible at all. Everything was always such a big deal, which gets exhausting after a while.

“Okay, one . . . two . . . three!” he says.

“Taco Bell!” I say with none of the hesitation that’s normally there when I have to make a choice about food.

“Perfect. We can eat that and head to play some mini golf.”

Music fills the cab, and I’m shocked he’s a country music fan. I don’t really know why I am, but I am.

Of all the things he could have been listening to, it’s the one style of music I don’t listen to.

He reaches for the radio and turns the music down. “Let’s play twenty questions.”

I’m thankful I don’t have to try and find something to talk about because until I know someone, small talk is hard for me.

“Uhhh, okay,” I say with a chuckle.

“Favorite color?”

“Orange. You?”

“Green.”

“Favorite sport?” I say.

I love all sports, but Leo hated that I could talk about sports with his coworkers more than he could.

“Hockey. You?” he replies and turns into Taco Bell’s parking lot.

“Same. Who’s your favorite team?”

I don’t care what team he says as long as it isn’t Colorado.

“The Bruins. You?” he says.

“The Wings,” I answer as I hear the person ask for our order.

He angles toward me. “What do you want?”

Without thinking, I lean over the center console and say, “Chicken quesadilla with a hard shell taco, no lettuce. A side of nachos and cheese and a frozen Baja Blast to drink, please.”

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