Page 43 of Past the Broken Bridges

I just don’t know if it’s a point he’s making to me or himself.

I tell myself being friends is a good thing, so I accept the small victories. During last Wednesday’s class, he doodled me a picture of Tweety Bird when Professor Grey was lecturing. The day before that, he offered to give me half his shrimppo’ boy to finally have a taste of Louisiana cuisine. They’re baby steps in the right direction.

“Dixie is bailing on the Cajun Swamp Tour that I booked for today,” I tell him.

His brows pinch. “You actually want to go see the wildlife?”

I find an odd sense of pride that he’s surprised. “One thing you should know about me if we’re going to be friends is that I love adventures. And I’ve never seen an alligator up close. I hear there are wild boars too, and I always thought they were cute in an ugly kind of way.”

He doesn’t seem to know what to say, but he slowly starts shaking his head. “You’re something else.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I power up the Uber app and start searching for a ride.

“Are you going alone?”

“Don’t worry,” I tell him, thumbing through the rideshare app. “I already promised Dixie that I wouldn’t get eaten by anything while I’m out there.”

“Wasn’t worried about that.”

I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Friends should be worried about other friends being harmed by things with pointy teeth.

After a moment, I hear his keys rattle. “Come on,” he says, gesturing toward the truck I’ve seen him get in and out of plenty of times when I may or may not have been watching out the window. “I know where they meet.”

“You don’t have—”

“We’re friends,” he cuts me off. “Right?”

That stops me from arguing. We joke that we are, but it isn’t like we talk that often. “Well…right. I guess.”

He nods and starts walking to the pickup, not waiting forme to follow. It takes me a few seconds, but I finally catch up in time for him to open the passenger door for me.

Nobody has opened a car door for me besides my mom and dad, and that was usually only when I was weak and drooling on myself from treatment. It’s hard to fight the smile as I climb in, ignoring the way he watches me.

“What?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

We stare at one another for a moment longer.

He eventually breaks eye contact, shuts the door, and rounds the front of his truck. With one hand casually draped on top of the wheel, he says, “So when does our tour leave?”

Our?“You want to come with me?”

Banks doesn’t bother looking at me as he backs out of his parking spot. “Unless you don’t want me to. But it sounds like you’ve got an extra ticket, and I’ve got the know-how to get there. Beats doing homework today.”

It probably isn’t flattering that he’s only coming with me because his other alternative is school assignments, but I’ll take it.

Because I think Banks likes me more than he wants to admit.

Friends.

I settle into the seat and watch the passing surroundings with a big smile on my face. And the silence between us doesn’t feel awkward at all. It’s comfortable. Calming.

Friends.

As we’re driving, I see a large bird swoop down in front of the truck, pulling me from my thoughts. “Look,” I exclaim, pointing in the direction of the large, feathered bird making circles around us. “I think that was a red-tailed hawk.”

Banks’s eyes go to the direction I’m pointing before helooks at me with a skeptical gaze. “You know a lot about birds?”

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