Page 97 of The Surprise Play
“Fill me in, Satch. I’m feeling like a moron here.”
“No, no, of course you’re not. If anything, it shows that you are completely cool and modern, and I am stuck in the ’50s when that cartoon first came out.”
“Oh, he’s a cartoon.” I nod, still having zero idea what she’s talking about.
“Yeah, my parents had a Looney Tunes DVD when I was little, and we’d watch it sometimes. It was a bunch of cartoon characters, and I loved Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner the most.” She starts to laugh like she’s rewatching an episode in her mind, and I’m making a mental note to YouTube this guy. “He’s this funny-looking coyote who is always out to get the Road Runner, who’s this super-fast bird that eludes him at every turn. He thinks of these really inventive ways to try and catch him, and he fails every time. It’s really funny.” She giggles some more, then looks at me with an impish grin. “I’ll have to show you sometime.”
“Wily Coyote.” I lean back, resting my hand just behind her. “I like it.”
She grins, resting her head against my shoulder for a second, like she’s not even thinking about what she’s doing. “Can I call you Coyote?”
“Baby, you can call me whatever you want.”
She sits back and looks at me, her button nose wrinkling. “I’ll only ever call you good stuff.”
“I don’t know.” I click my tongue. “This Wily Coyote guy doesn’t exactly sound like a winner.”
My dry comment makes her snort with laughter, and I’m loving that sound even more than I did yesterday.
She tumbles against me, her cheek squishing into my shoulder, and I let out a loud coyote cry that bounces and echoes back to us.
This makes her laugh even harder, so I do it again and she soon joins me, the football stadium rich with our howling.
“I’m liking Coyote,” I murmur, brushing my lips against her forehead.
Damn, she smells so good.
I’m having the best time tonight.
I’ve never been on a date like this before, and I must be insane because this is so much fun. Maybe I’ve just never met a girl who I thought would appreciate it.
Until now.
“Wanna dance?” I softly ask, the idea hitting me out of the blue. But dancing’s romantic, right? Chicks love that kind of thing.
Her head pops off my shoulder, and she gives me a nervous wince. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“I’m sure you’re better than you think you are.”
I stand and hold my hand out to her. I have to wriggle my fingers and bat my eyelashes before she gives in with a soft laugh and lets me pull her to her feet.
Stepping off the blanket, I guide her into the center of the field and turn, giving her a dramatic bow that makes her laugh before pulling her against me.
She reaches up, resting her hand on my shoulder, and I hold on to her other one as if we’re about to waltz, but I don’t know how to do that shit, so we just kind of sway back and forth in the cold night air.
And then she starts to hum.
I don’t know what the tune is, but it sounds old-timey… jazz-ish. And it makes me smile. This girl can hold a tune, that’s obvious, and I lean my cheek on the top of her head, wrapping my arm more tightly around her and pulling our arms in to tuck them close.
Shit, this is romantic.
And I’m not even trying to make it that way.
It’s just happening because Satch makes me want to?—
Oh yes! Is that snow?
I glance up, a smile lighting my face as the first flake flutters past me.
