Page 27 of Kiss My Glass
“Such as?” Danny inquires.
“No idea,” says Nate. “It was the only threat I could think of.”
“You’ll make a great dad,” says Danny.
“Shut up and spill the beans,” Nate insists.
Danny looks at me. “Want to do the honors?”
“Sure.” I address Nate and Shelby. “Yesterday, Danny and I concluded that there are grounds for progressing our incipient friendship to an advanced level of affiliation, and we intend to compare our compatibilities in order to affirm whether forward movement in that domain is appropriate and/or mutually beneficial.”
Nate gives me an even stare. “You’re getting to know each other better before you decide whether or not to leap into the sack.”
“Gold star for you,” I say.
“Wait— Chiara was right? You two dohave feelings for each other?” asks Shelby.
Danny and I exchange another glance. Neither of us wants to credit Chiara with anything after the way she treated us, but the alternative is answering this question with a lie.
“We’re exploring the possibility,” I say, but I can feel my face grow pink. A dead giveaway.
Nate spots my blush and grins, but fortunately – for him – doesn’t push it.
“So, how are you going to get to know each other?” Shelby asks, excitedly. My sister is a sucker for romance.
This time, Danny does the honors. “Frankie had this idea that we should participate in each other’s hobbies and interests. If we don’t want to kill each other by the end, we’ve likely got a decent basis for a relationship.” He waves the piece of paper I gave him. “We listed our top four, which we’re now reviewing.”
“That’s … sensible, I guess?” says Nate. “Though I have to admit, I’m getting anAnnie Get Your Gunvibe.”
“Are you implying that this will turn into a competition?” I enquire. “As in ‘anything you can do, I can do better’?”
“Well, does the word ‘competitive’ seem apt when applied to you two?” is Nate’s rejoinder.
I’m not going to look at Danny. I’m not going to look at Danny.
I look at Danny. He’s got his poker face on, which means he’s ready and waiting for the starter’s gun. Competitive it is.
“Can you bake a pie?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “Never tried.”
“Neither have I,” I say. “Happy to eat one, though. Any kind except pecan. I have strong opinions about nuts.”
“Oh, she does,” Shelby confirms. “Some kids have nut allergies. Frankie has nut hostility. You can imagine how our hippy mom felt about that!”
“No home-made granola?” Danny suggests.
“No walnut cake.” Shelby counts off on her fingers. “No chestnut stuffing, no crushed peanuts on banana splits, no peanutbutter, not even extra smooth?—”
“No Smuckers at all?” Danny’s grinning at me. “Not even Goober Grape?”
“Disgusting,” is my final word.
“What’s on your lists?” Nate forces us back on track. “Unless it’s private. Or kinky.”
“No kinky stuff so far.” Danny scans my list. “Though I have my doubts about pickleball.”
“Fastest growing sport in America,” I say. “Anyone can play. All you need is a wiffle ball and a paddle.”
