“It’s...” Fuck, how did I explain this? “I don’t know. Getting into football in high school is what finally earned me the respect of some of my classmates. My natural talent gave me this rush that was...addictive. I love the game and crave that split second you have to think and react, strategize what the best play for that moment is before five hundred pounds of the defensive line tackles you. I like learning more of the tricks of the trade since I came to Ellamore, but...there’s a lot more pressure now. A lot more on the line. It’s not just fun anymore. Now, it’s everything, which takes out a little of the pleasure. But, yeah, to answer your question, I still like it. I love it.”
Aspen nodded, letting me know she understood. “If you could do or be anything in the world, without any consequences or worries, what would you do?”
The first thing that popped into my mind was her. I’d be with her. But I knew she meant occupation-wise. I shrugged. “Don’t know. I can’t really think of anything I like more than football.”
“Would you teach it to others if you couldn’t play anymore? You did really well with those boys today. I think you’d make a great coach.”
“Huh.” I hadn’t thought about that before. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”
Her back straightened as she preened. “I know. But seriously, you’re smart enough to do anything you want. I just wanted to make sure football was what you loved most.”
I blinked and shook my head. “Did you just call me...smart?” Someone color me shocked.
She furrowed her brow. “Of course you’re smart. I always knew that. It takes a mad set of brains to always say the exact thing in class you know will tick me off the most.”
Laughing, I shook my head and finished off my fourth corn dog, but inside I was still flattered she’d called me smart. When I spotted another food stand not far away, I dusted the crumbs off my fingers and turned my attention back to her. “Okay. Enough about me. I want to hear more about you.”
Her smile was a little uncertain. “Me? What do you want to know about me?”
Leaning a little across the table, I sent her a look as if to tell her to brace herself because this was a serious question. With my voice lowered, I asked, “What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”
She blinked and then threw her head back and laughed. “I don’t know. Vanilla?”
Wrinkling my nose, I exploded, “Vanilla? Who the hell prefers vanilla over all the other flavors out there?”
“Hey!” she scolded, half-laughing and half-insulted. “Don’t bash my tastes. What’s your favorite?”
“Easy. Rocky Road.”
“Interesting.” Making a sound in the back of her throat, she tapped her chin with her finger and studied me. “Is that some kind of symbolism for the way your life has gone?”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Okay, Miss Literature Professor. Enough of that shit. Not everything is an analogy on life. Sometimes, we just like the way something tastes.” Licking my lips, I swayed toward her as my attention dropped to her mouth. “Kind of how I like the way you taste.”
“Don’t,” she warned instantly, all smiles gone as she pulled back and arched me her nervous glance.
Fuck, I’d forgotten I was keeping this strictly platonic.
“I forgot.” Lifting my hands, I instantly backed off. “My bad, seriously. I’m sorry. But now you have me craving ice cream. If I can’t have the other thing I crave right now, you owe me a big, double-scooped cone full of Rocky Road.”
Standing up, I reached across the table for her hand and pulled her up behind me. I’d never been a hand-holder before today, but I liked twining my fingers through hers and pressing our palms together. There was something wholesome and innocent and yet utterly erotic about swinging our arms in sync as we walked side by side.
***
“Mmm, now this is why I dragged you here,” I said after we both had cones full of ice cream. “I couldn’t very well buy ice cream by myself.”
Aspen tempted me out of my mind with the flash of her tongue as she lapped up her vanilla coated in chocolate and crushed M&Ms. “Why’s that?”
I snorted. “How lame is it for a guy to visit an ice cream stand by himself? Hell, it’s even wrong for a guy to take another guy. It’s only right when some chick is unwillingly dragging him along.”
Wrinkling her nose, she bumped her shoulder against mine. “So, I’m your ice cream beard, then?”
“Exactly.” See, she totally understood me. I didn’t even care that the entire idea made her laugh at my silliness. I loved her laugh.
We wound our way through the strip together, holding hands and eating our ice cream cones, checking out all the strange shit people had for sale. Homemade jewelry and odd little knickknacks mostly made us laugh. But then Aspen found a used books rack.
I watched her scan through the frayed paperbacks, charmed by the fascination on her face. She was in her element and looked good there. When she found a story I knew had caught her interest, I paid the vendor for the paperback before she’d realized what I’d done.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Her words said one thing, but her eyes said another as she gratefully hugged the book to her chest.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re welcome,” I said, bumping my shoulder into hers. “Now let’s find a grassy spot and stretch out for a minute so you can read.”
Her eyes grew big. “You...did you just offer to let me...read?”