I hated that I didn’t know.
“Hey,” she said, pushing the door open to let in me and Lieutenant Dan. I stepped into the entry and she crouched to pet my dog and he bounced on his lone front leg and made puppy noises. He liked her.
I looked around while she was ruffling his head. She hadn’t been kidding about the house. It was…old.
I liked old. My cabin was old. But this wasn’t the nostalgic kind of old that had aged well. This was the kind that was dated and in need of serious renovating. The carpet was brown shag, the ceiling was popcorn. There was a glass coffee table with shiny brass legs. A huge cat tree was in the corner next to a window covered in cheap, bent blinds. The pink floral sofa in the living room had thick plastic on it and a huge glittery framed painting of the Virgin Mary hanging over it.
Briana put her hands on her hips and surveyed the house with me. “Well, here it is.”
“It’s…”
“Don’t lie to me. Actually—yes. Lie to me.”
I laughed a little.
She nodded to the sofa. “Let’s eat. I’ll give you the grand tour later.”
I took off my shoes and she made her way to the sofa. Her pajama bottoms were inside out.
“Your pants are on inside out,” I said, following her.
“I know. The outside was fuzzier. Follow me for more fashion tips.”
I smiled.
I’d settled on wearing my workout clothes—a gray T-shirt and some black Nike training pants.
It took me a day of planning just to decide on it.
She dropped onto the sofa and patted the spot next to her. I sat down and the plastic squeaked under me. I started unbagging the food onto the coffee table and she turned on the TV while Lieutenant Dan nosed around. He started sniffing under the dust ruffle of the sofa and wagging his tail. The cat was probably there.
I eased myself down onto the floor and put my back against the seat cushion.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Trying to meet your cat.”
“Is he under there?”
“I think so.”
I handed her a burger. She grabbed a blanket and pulled it over her lap. Then she crossed her leg under her, and her knee pressed into my shoulder.
I pretended like I didn’t notice it, but I did. I really did.
There was going to be touching now. Obligatory touching, but touching nonetheless. We’d have to in front of my family.
I felt the same way about this that I felt about the rest of it. I liked it, but hated that I didn’t know if she did.
She turned up the volume on the TV. Two actors walked through a parking lot as a building blew up behind them. “That stuff kills me,” she said, setting down the remote and opening her to-go container.
“Total bullshit,” I said.
“They wouldn’t be walking away like that. Blown eardrums at the very least,” she said.
“The shift in pressure would rupture a lung. Soft tissue damage.”
She ate a fry and smiled at me like she liked that I knew this and we could complain about it. I liked it too.
“So I was Googling get-to-know-you games,” she said. “And I think we should play Would You Rather.”
I let out a dry laugh.
“What?” she asked.
“The last game Amy wanted to play was Penis,” I mumbled, tearing the corner of a ketchup packet with my teeth.
“The game where you take turns shouting penis in a public place louder and louder until one of you gives up out of embarrassment? That’s like your number-one idea of hell.”
I nodded. “Yes. Yes, it is. I’m not very fun, unfortunately.”
She scoffed. “You’re fun. That game fucking sucks. What other torture did she subject you to? Did she like to text you ‘We need to talk’ too?”
I paused. “She did, actually.”
Briana rolled her eyes.
“She threw me a surprise birthday party last year,” I said. “She didn’t understand why I was so mortified, since it was just my family and Zander there and she got my favorite cake.” I shook my head. “I don’t like parties. I especially don’t like parties for me, and I definitely don’t like them when I don’t have a chance to mentally prepare for them. It was like my nightmare trifecta.”
Briana bit the tip off a fry. “What the heck was wrong with her? I’ve known you like three weeks and even I know you’d hate that.”
I pinched off a small piece of hamburger and held it under the couch. A moment later a soft mouth took it. “It’s not her fault. She always meant well. She’s just a people person, she likes parties. I was the one who always ruined things.”
I felt Briana studying me and I looked up. “What?”
“You know that it’s not your fault that you don’t like that stuff, right? There’s nothing wrong with you.”
I didn’t know what to say in response to that.
She pivoted to look at me straight on. “Have you ever heard that quote if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it’s stupid?”
“Yeah…”
“Sounds like Amy really likes hanging out in trees.”
I laughed a little.
“I will never judge you for how you climb a tree, Jacob. And you should know that you are an exceptional fish.”
She held my gaze, and I smiled and looked down at my lap. I didn’t know that I needed to hear this. But I did.
I put so much of the blame of what happened between me and Amy on myself, it didn’t even occur to me to look at it another way. And for just a moment, I allowed myself to believe that maybe I really was a fish put in a tree.
“All right,” Briana said, sitting back into the sofa. “Would You Rather. Are you ready?”
I pinched off another piece of burger and held it under the couch. “I’m ready.”
“Would you rather be a reverse centaur or a reverse merman?”
“Like, a man with a horse head or a fish head?”
“That is correct.”
I thought about it. “A centaur. I don’t love the idea of not being able to blink.”
“Or breathe. You’d have to live in the water. Things would be very shrively.”
I chuckled.
“Your turn,” she said, taking an exploratory bite of her burger.
“I need to Google questions. I can’t just think these up on demand,” I said, pulling out my phone.
I scanned a Would You Rather question list. “Okay. Would you rather fight flying monkeys or infinity ants?”
She swallowed. “Flying monkeys,” she said without thinking about it. “The ants won’t ever stop. That was too easy, give me another one.”
I looked again. “Would you rather know the history of everything you touch, or be able to talk to animals?”
She scrunched up her face. “I don’t like either of those. Either way I’m going to be honor bound to solve unsolved mysteries for the rest of my life. But if I had to choose, animals.”
“You don’t like unsolved mysteries?”
“I do, but I don’t want that to be my job. I only solve murder mysteries for fun.”
I gave her an amused look.
“My turn,” she said. “Would you rather name your kid whatever you want, or name your kid after an internet provider in exchange for eighteen years of free Wi-Fi?”