Page 8 of Something Like Fate

I started rambling about how it’s not going to be easy and how we’ll need to work hard, every day, in a terrible southern twang, trying to keep a straight face.

He squinted at me over the medium soda cups he was stacking in two neat piles of equal height, trying to figure out what the hell I was talking about.

“The Notebook. It’s what Noah says to Allie,” I explained, copping to my secret. “I’ve been quoting out-of-context rom-com lines to you all week. Haven’t you noticed?”

“I don’t watch a lot of rom-coms. But that does explain some things.”

“Sorry. I get bored sometimes.” I leaned my weight against my broom handle. “Though I’d be less bored if we actually talked. Since we’re working together all summer, shouldn’t we get to know each other?”

“I already know a lot about you,” he said casually, peeling his eyes from his soda-cup pile.

“Like what?”

“You’re a sicko who likes to be barefoot in public places and lets animals near your mouth. You also have a penchant for floral patterns and a talent for memorizing movie quotes.”

“That’s a strangely accurate description of me,” I admitted. I respected his assessment. Most guys probably wouldn’t remember myname. The bar is truly in hell for boys. “But I still don’t know anything about you, aside from the fact that you like Halloween more than is normal.” I only knew that last bit because I’d caught him making his costume (a guard fromSquid Game, sleek black face mask and hot-pink jumpsuit) three months in advance.

“Halloween is superior to any other holiday. I stand by it. And fine. Ask me anything.” He sucked in a breath and held it for a couple beats, as though bracing for me to ask him his darkest secrets.

“What’s your favorite animal?” It was an easy enough question, yet very revealing all the same.

A shrug. “I don’t know.”

I furrowed my brow, taken aback and frankly offended on behalf of the animal kingdom. “You don’t know your favorite animal?”

“I’m not an animal lover,” he said calmly, like that was just a totally normal trait, normal as someone not liking cilantro.

A cough tore its way up my throat. “What? You monster! Why?”

“I’m allergic to most of them. Same with my mom. We don’t have pets.”

I blinked, watching him as he moved on to refilling the straw dispenser. “Wait, you’ve never had a pet? Even a hypoallergenic one? A fish?”

“Nope,” he said quickly, turning to a group of preteen girls who came to report a clogged toilet in the women’s bathroom. “Ugh, not again.” Teller let out a long sigh and ushered me to the supply closet.

“All right, this is going to be one of the most important skills you’ll learn at this job,” he said, handing me a face mask, rubber gloves, and a plunger. We geared up like we were entering a biohazardous site and set forth to the toilet.

“Oh god.” I coughed, staring down at the mess, plunger dangling from my limp hand.

“So there’s a technique,” he said, confidently reaching for the plunger. It occurred to me that he was being brave, particularly for a germaphobe.

“Atechnique? Does this happen ... often?” I asked, not truly wanting to know the answer.

“A couple times a week, give or take,” he said, voice muffled under the mask. He then proceeded to demonstrate the “technique,” really putting his back into it.

“I still can’t believe you’ve gone your entire life without the unconditional love of a pet,” I said, trying to distract myself from the grossness.

“Is that so weird?” he asked over the gurgle of water.

“Yes, it’s very weird,” I said bluntly. “You’re missing out. There are so many animals that don’t have fur. Like those hairless cats.”

He faux-gagged, stuffing the plunger into the toilet bowl like it personally offended him. “Those things are wrinkled abominations. They totally negate the cuteness of a cat. And it’s not just the fur I’m allergic to. It’s the saliva.”

I tapped his back to switch places. “Here, let me try,” I said, taking the plunger to give it a whirl. “What about a bird?”

“Allergic to feathers. They’re also distantly related to dinosaurs, a disturbing fact that’s seriously overlooked by the general public.”

“A lizard?” I wagered, leaning my full body weight over the plunger.

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