“They’re not donkeys, Zo. You never hitch a ride with a kangaroo.”
“Do you miss being there?”
We stop at the intersection and wait for the light to turn green. “From what I remember, Dad and I left when I was ten. Most of my growing up was done here in the States.”
“You know, if you had a thicker Aussie accent, you would score more chicks,” I tell him jokingly.
“Are you saying I don’t score enough now?”
“I’m saying you haven’t scored the right one,” I point out.
“The right one? I’ve scored some pretty good ones.”
“True. But your Mrs. Right. Your damsel in distress. Where is she? All I’m saying is that maybe you should use your Aussie background to your advantage. Slap the accent on, then bam, she’ll be coming ‘round the mountain.”
“I worry about you.” He laughs, again. “Honestly, Zo, you read way too much fiction.”
He has a point. I love to read. Books have become my life since I have no one. Although I enjoy reading romance, I don’t limit myself to only that genre. For me, it’s the escape—the feeling of being transported somewhere else and pretending to be someone else if only just for that one moment.
“There’s so much more I want to do and see,” I say to myself out loud, switching the subject without even thinking.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Travel… explore the world.”
“You’re afraid of flying,” he reminds me.
“I could take a boat?”
“Where exactly would you take a boat to?”
“I don’t know… London?”
He grins, licking the top of his ice cream cone. The strawberry looks so good, and I instantly regret getting my vanilla groove on. “That’s a long haul if there’s ever one.”
“I’m only afraid of flying by myself. With friends, I’m okay.”
“Maybe we should plan a trip together?” he suggests.
“You and me?”
“Yes. Why not?”
This time, I laugh. “Everyone will think we’re a couple.”
“Why would everything think that? Males and females can be friends and travel. I’ve got a ton of friends who backpack through Europe together. It’s what our generation does.”
“I’m just saying people will think that. So, don’t get all awkward when they ask questions or make like we’re such a cute couple.” I tilt my cone and lick the ice cream in a clockwise motion to avoid it dripping on my hand.
“I wouldn’t be awkward. I’ll prove it.”
He takes my hand and places it in his. This isn’t the first time we’ve held hands while walking, but to prove him wrong, I wait in anticipation. Around me, most people are busy doing their own thing until we almost run into an old lady.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologize, almost dropping my cone on the pavement.
“It’s okay, my dear. Don’t want to let go of your boyfriend’s hand. I understand.” She smiles dearly.
Drew’s face drops. With a widening smirk, I watch him with my I-told-you-so face. I love every opportunity to prove Mr. Know-It-All wrong. Drew is very competitive, so I know there’s no chance he will let this one go without getting worked up.