of her hair so I can think clearly. “I’m not stupid,” I say. “I know I’m not a party to be around. I’m cynical and boring and I’m not even nice to you.”
“You’re not boring,” she insists. “And you can be nice. I think it’s accidental, but it does happen.”
“You know what I mean,” I say. We both have our sandals off and I run my toe along the top of her foot, down to her bony ankle. She doesn’t move it away. “I’ve spent half the time trying to blow you off. Which I feel really bad about, by the way. And I’m glad you came back. But why did you?”
She smiles.
“And don’t say it’s because I’m cute,” I add.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re a challenge,” she says. I raise my eyebrows at this simple answer and tell her I’m sure she can find more upbeat, happy people in this city that are also a challenge.
“But they wouldn’t have your prolific theories,” she points out. Well, that is true.
“I like people that take time to figure out,” she says. “That’s one thing I’ll never be—mysterious. I put it all out there. So, I’m intrigued by people who make it hard to get to know them. People opposite me, I guess.”
She studies my confused expression. “You play video games, right?” she asks. I nod. What guy doesn’t?
“Okay, you know how in video games, the character you’re trying to beat has a life bar at the bottom of the screen that you need to break down? But you need to learn all their moves and defenses before you can? Well, you’re kind of like that.”
I look away as I visualize this random analogy. “So, you’re trying to deplete my life bar?”
She smirks as she applies some Chap Stick to her lips.
I’m jealous of Chap Stick. There’s a first.
“I’m trying to kick down all these walls you’ve built up to see what’s underneath. The more I knock them down, the more I like what I see,” she says. “And I think you’re cute,” she adds.
She looks out at the lights below and changes the subject.
“You know what I love most about the desert?” she asks. I shake my head. “It’s the only place where the earth is stripped naked. Totally exposed. It’s like you can’t help but be yourself when you’re surrounded by it. You can’t help but bare your thoughts.”
She looks back at me and waits. Her eyes are determined.
“Okay,” I say. I ask her what she wants to know.
“Why all the walls, Gray?” she asks. “What’s going on with you?” I turn my body away from her and stare out at the bowl of lights below our dangling feet. I could play dumb. I could lie. But I don’t want to. Not with her.
I look back at Dylan. I have to confess to someone. It’s cracking inside me.
“My family’s falling apart,” I finally say. Dylan’s eyes turn into their listening mode, where they focus on mine and invite me to come inside and stay awhile. I inhale a long breath. I’m not sure I’m prepared to open up this conversation. My hands clench into fists.
“What happened?” she asks.
“My mom’s depressed,” I say. “My dad’s never home. When he is, it’s like he’s sleepwalking. We haven’t spoken in months.” Dylan’s silent next to me. I look over at her with hard eyes. “I’m not asking you to feel sorry for me. It’s just what we’re going through.”
She nods and I take another deep breath. I tell her the truth. I tell her my sister died, my twin sister, about eight months ago, and my mind and heart twist with anger at hearing the words out loud. I thought the pain would get easier, but it always stings, like a snakebite, through my core, down to my bones. I still haven’t accepted her death. It’s easier to imagine she’s just away on a long trip. Traveling the world. That she’ll show up any day and surprise us.
“It hasn’t been good,” I say, and pull down the rim of my hat.
I tell Dylan she died in a car accident. She hit black ice on the way to Flagstaff in a snowstorm and spun
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