“Tell you what?”
“An innermost secret and/or wildest dream. Preferably something embarrassing so that I can lord it over you later.”
“Why, Sandy,” Darren said, sounding amused. “Is this you wanting to know things about me? And here I thought you were just using me to get what you wanted.”
“Oh, I am,” I said, resolutely not blushing. “Know thy enemy and all that.”
“You keep calling me that.”
“What?”
“Your enemy.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Second time. First time it was friends close, enemies closer.”
“Oh. Well. I suppose.”
“Am I your enemy?” He didn’t sound angry, just honestly curious.
Which flummoxed me. “Uh. Yes?”
“You sure? You don’t sound sure.”
“I’m sure. Like, so sure.”
“Positive?”
No. “Absolutely.”
“Huh. All right, then. Let me see, a secret or wildest dream.”
“That’s it?”
“What?”
“I tell you that you’re my enemy and you don’t even want to know why?”
“Oh,” he said maddeningly. “There’s a reason?”
“Of course there’s a reason!” I sputtered.
“There you go. Anyway, I suppose a secret—”
This most certainly wouldn’t do. “Don’t you want to know the reason?”
“Eh. Not really. I’m sure you think it’s justified in that weird, twisted way that you have. Okay, I’ve got a secret. But then you have to tell me one too. It’s only fair.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“You wanted to know one of my secrets. That’s why you called me, remember?”
“I didn’t call you! You called me to tell me bad news!”
“Wow, you can get loud rather quickly,” he said. “But that doesn’t count as your secret because I honestly already knew that.”
“Gaaaah!” I shouted into the phone.