Page 118 of Lovebug
I smile at the memory and say to Wally, “Authentic. Authentic I can definitely do.”
Wally’s energy shifts, both of us suddenly more light-hearted. “A lot of people think Thoreau was kind of a dick, though.”
“Really? They do?”
“Oh, hell yeah!” he exclaims.
“Well, being that no one alive today ever met the guy, maybe we should give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“That’s your MO, isn’t it?” He smiles at me.
“What? Giving people the benefit of the doubt?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure,” I say with confidence. “Most people are inherently good when you give them a chance, don’t you think?”
He hesitates for a second, then nods with a little purse of his lips before taking another bite of food.
“Do you disagree with that?” I challenge.
“Not generally, no. But taken to its extreme, that thinking can get us all into trouble. I guess we just need to know when we’ve given someone enough chances.”
I wonder if he’s thinking of his ex when he says that. I know my thoughts certainly shift to mine for a millisecond.
“Anyway,” Wally continues. “I think Thoreau’s gone down in history as a bit of a punk mostly because of the whole not paying his taxes thing. Funny, no one’s ever botheredmeabout that.”
“DO YOU NOT PAY YOUR TAXES?!” I spit out a mouthful of perfectly good white wine… directly onto the man’s chest.
“Relax, lady!” He starts toweling himself off with his cloth napkin.“I pay my taxes! I was kidding!”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I exclaim, both hands shooting up to cover my mouth in embarrassment.
He waves me off. “Eh, no big deal. Probably only fair you douse me in white wine since I was somewhat responsible for getting you covered in craft beer and syrup the other day.”
“Well,” I say flirtatiously, “You more than made up for it afterward.”
“I did, didn’t I.” He smiles and leans in for a kiss.
The kiss quickly escalates. Before I know it, we’re making out like teenagers under the stars, and I’m overwhelmed by how happy and right everything feels with this man.
“I like you,” I say as I rest my forehead against his, a bit breathless.
“I like you too.”
“No, but like… a lot,” I breathe.
“Oh, okay, well that’s different.” He laughs and rears back, both arms up in defense. “If you like mea lot, then I’m out!”
I smack him on the shoulder and laugh along with him. “You know what I mean, you dork!”
“A dork?” He pulls back even further in mock offense. “You’re calling me a dork?”
“Yes, any man who quotes Thoreau the amount of times you have this evening definitely qualifies as a dork.”
“Fair enough,” he acquiesces and slides back closer to me on the bench. “As long as we’re in agreement that youlikedorks.”
“I do,” I say and cup one hand then the other around his scruffy jaw. “Very much.”
