Page 9 of Between Here and There

He mirrors my movement, leaning in close, his eyes glinting with something playful. “Why? Is it working?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

I tilt my head, giving him an unimpressed look. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He grins, unfazed. “I think you’d like it, too.”

“Whatever, I just have a soft spot for puppies,” I say, taking another wedge. I cannot look this guy in the eye, I will falter. Damn it, how can someone be so good at flirting?

“Alright, whatever you say. The story’s real, though,” he leans back. “Your turn,” he says, thankfully dropping it.

“Okay, um… one, I won a hot dog eating contest in college. Two, I went on a hiking trip in the Arizona desert. Three, I accidentally crashed a corporate gathering thinking it was my friend’s costume party.”

“Hm,” he says, considering. “Has to be the hot dog eating contest.”

“Wrong. I still have the plaque displayed in my room. Quite proud of it, too—I ate twenty hot dogs in fifteen minutes,” I say. “The lie was actually the hiking trip. I’m deadly allergic to dust.”

He pauses for a while, eyeing me intently. “Your turn to be honest,” he says. “That hot dog bit was your version of the puppy-saving, isn’t it? Makes you quirky and intriguing.”

“Are you intrigued?” I say, crossing my arms.

“I’ve been intrigued since this morning, Tantrum, and hotdogs have nothing to do with it,” he says.

I can feel my cheeks warm slightly, and I quickly glance away, pretending to be interested in my milkshake. “Well, I do have that natural charm,” I say, trying to gain control of the situation.

“You really do,” he says slowly, and he falls silent, as if thinking of what to say. After a few seconds, he clears his throat. “Anyway,” he continues. “Sucks about your allergy. Hiking is fun,” he comments.

“I’d love to try hiking, but I’d probably die before I reach the peak.” I chuckle.

“Outdoor dust isn’t as bad as indoor dust, you know. And there are trails that aren’t that dusty. Maybe one day, we can try them,” he suggests, his smile as charming as ever. We. Yeah, right. Like I’ll ever see him again.

“Maybe, let me stock up on inhalers and antihistamines first.”

He chuckles. “If not hiking, what’s your hobby?”

I never really thought about that. I don’t have the time to indulge in a hobby these days. Between my jobs, applications, and chores, I barely have time to breathe, let alone maintain a hobby.

“Swimming?” he adds. “Skydiving?” He grins.

“Don’t get your hopes up, I’m not that interesting,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “I’m more of a ‘hang out at a café and overthink my life’ type.”

He chuckles, and says, “I highly doubt that.”

“It’s true! Some days, it feels like I’m just coasting along,” I add, my voice trailing at the end.

Ignoring my highly personal admission, he narrows his eyes at me, leaning in, “You’ve got an adventurous side, I can feel it.”

“Adventurous?” I scoff, although I can’t help but smile. “You’ve seen my hot dog prowess; that’s it.” Though I admit, it would be nice not to worry about things so much and have the luxury to live the life I want for myself. Maybe I could even hike… with a tattooed stranger…

“Maybe you’re just waiting for the right moment to unleash it,” he suggests, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

We finish our dinner going through whirlwinds of two truths and a lie. It’s ironic how escaping from reality makes both of us find out random facts about each other. For instance, I found out that he once locked himself out of his apartment wearing nothing but underwear. I’m not gonna lie that the thought of him standing in a hallway looking like that didn’t send my imagination running wild. I also found out that he’s sort of an adrenaline junkie—bungee jumping, scuba diving, all that.

I somehow feel that my stories are so boring and pale in comparison, it’s not fair to him. The only information I provided to him was that I won the school quiz bee five times in a row, nobody knows I can sing, and that I collect vintage postcards—which, again, nobody knows.

“All this and yet I don’t know your name.” He leans back and crosses his arms.

“And you never will.” I counter with a playful smile. Just then, our bill arrives, and I reach for my wallet to cover my giant portion of the meal, but he waves me off.

“I got it, I invited you, didn’t I?” he says as he leaves cash and a huge tip.

---