Page 41 of Past the Broken Bridges

Dixie’s lips grow into a tiny smile. “The night we all went out. Sometimes he’ll sit with me at lunch if I’m alone and you’re at class.”

How come I didn’t know that? And why does that make me… I don’t know. “Mad” isn’t the right word. “Jealous” would probably fit better, and I hate that the little green monster stirs to life simply because Dixie gets attention from Banks.

“That’s nice of him,” I offer, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as off as I feel. “You should suggest doing something with Dawson again if you want to see him.”

She gapes. “Like another date?”

“Or just a casual hangout to feel him out.”

Her nose scrunches, making it hard not to snort. I can see she thinks that’s a terrible idea. “I don’t think I can do that.”

I point out the obvious. “You didn’t think you could suggest dinner out either, but you did. And he took you out on Valentine’s Day. But it was only a suggestion if you don’t think you can do it again…”

Dixie’s eyes flicker into a mischievous grin. “Is that whatyou’regoing to do with Banks? Suggest ‘casual hangout time’ to feel him out?”

Dixie thought it was cute that he came over to help me with my bloody nose because he was worried about me not showing up for class. I’m glad I didn’t tell her about what he brought me, or she would have wondered the same thing about Dawson’s gift as I did.

Eventually, I shrug. “Maybe I will.”

After all, he preferscasual.And maybe…maybe that’s what’s best for me too. Nothing too serious. Nothing that could hurt feelings. If he’s willing to offer it, who’s to say it’s a bad idea for me to accept?

“I wish I had your confidence.”

I watch her, biting the inside of my cheek. “It isn’t confidence,” I reply quietly.

Her brows furrow. “Then what is it?”

How could I possibly explain to her what it is when there’s so much she doesn’t know? When you’ve lived as little as I have, you make up for the lost moments. “I guess it’s about figuring out what you have to gain when you have nothing left to lose.”

Dixie stares, a frown sweeping over her features. It dims her eyes that remind me of the fuzzy moss I used to love leaning against when I was a kid. “That’s a sad way to look at life.”

“Or it’s a smart one,” I counter, sitting up and crossing my legs under me. Not wanting to be a Debbie Downer, I change the subject. “Let’s cross some things off my list together! I was looking into doing something this weekend, actually. Living it up. You could invite Dawson along if you want.”

She’s seen the extensive list, so I’m not surprised to see a wary look on her face. “Which item are you looking into exactly?”

I grin. “Wanna see some alligators up close?”

Dixie pales. “Uh…”

“Dawson could play protector,” I reason, trying to sweeten the deal. “You could suggest the swamp tour to him.”

Her top teeth dig into her bottom lip. There’s reluctance on her face, but I’m guessing she relents when she sees the excitement on mine. “I suppose I have nothing to lose. Except maybe a limb…”

I beam, picking up my phone. “I promise all of your limbs will be accounted for by the end of the tour. I’ll buy the tickets.”

* * *

I lower the phone after reading the message and frown as a bite of wind hits me. Zipping up my jacket all the way, I tuck one of my hands in a pocket while the other reopens the text as if it’ll change somehow.

Dixie: I’m sorry. Don’t be mad

I wish she’d told me she didn’t want to go when I suggested the Cajun Swamp Tour because these tickets weren’t cheap. But what can I do? I’d never make somebody do something they’re uncomfortable with.

Her name flashes on the screen when I don’t reply after a couple of minutes. As soon as I swipe to answer, she repeats, “Don’t be mad.”

My shoulders are heavy as the twinge of disappointment burrows itself in. “I’m not, Dixie. Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t want to go earlier this week? You could have been honest.”

Her tone has a mixture of embarrassment and guilt in it. “Have you ever seenCSI: Miami? My dad used to love that show, and it scarred me as a kid. They were always finding body parts in the swamps or inside gators’ bodies. It freaks me out to be up close and personal with one.”

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