Switch (Landry Family 3)

“I didn’t say that,” I blush.

He considers this as he takes a bite of his Rueben. I twirl my fork around in my salad, trying to focus on the colors of the tomato and lettuce and not on the way his eyes are beginning to turn a slight shade of blue.

“I’m not sure I like you either,” he says, not looking at me. “But I’m not sure I want to.”

“And why not?”

“Because . . .” He dabs a linen napkin on his lips. “I think that would give you an unfair advantage over me.”

My cheeks flush the color of the tomato on my plate. I’m not sure what that means, but his gaze tells me it’s a compliment. “I’ll be late,” I assure him. “That’ll help.”

He laughs, the realest laugh I’ve heard from him. It’s wonderful. “That would definitely help. I can’t handle being late.”

“Or disorganization,” I add.

“Or being unprepared.” He grins. “I guess I have a lot of issues, don’t I?”

“That’s what it sounds like,” I tease. “I just hate it when people don’t wave at me when I let them pull out in front of me. It’s so rude. I did you a favor and now you’re going to be snotty? It’s really hard for me not to ram them with my car.”

“So you have anger management issues then?” he teases. “That’s really, really good to know.”

“No. I have a hard time managing assholish behavior.”

“Remind me to keep you away from Barrett,” he winks.

“So you have no assholish behavior?” I ask, popping a chunk of lettuce in my mouth. “None at all?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Interesting . . .” I take a sip of my water. “Okay, then. Name me three words that describe you.”

He takes a bite of his sandwich. The wheels turn as his head cocks to the side. “Careful. Purposeful. Confident.”

“Those are boring,” I sigh dramatically.

“Maybe I’m boring,” he winks. “What about you? Three words.”

“Dependable,” I say, tilting my head to look at him out of the corner of my eye.

“Nice one,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Searching.”

“For what?”

I pop a tomato in my mouth. “A missing piece.”

“To what? A puzzle? A mystery?”

“Me. I’ve never felt like me. Is that odd?”

“Absolutely,” he grins.

“I look back on my life so far and wish I would’ve done something I wanted to do. There was always someone telling me I couldn’t or shouldn’t, and I believed them. It’s my fault,” I sigh. “But what if I’d tried? What if I’d tried business or law or had taken a cooking class? Who knows where I’d be now.”

He leans back in his chair. “I have the opposite problem. I’m afraid to stop moving because I might stall. The one time I tried it, I . . .” He clears his throat. “You have one more.”

I want to dig deeper on that, to see what he means, but I know it’s futile. He’s not going to talk anymore about it. “One more. Okay, I’m going with adventurous.”