"You're not helping your case," I said dryly.
"Trust me, sweetheart. You'll approve of the plans I have for your body." He shot a suggestive look at me.
"You're such a flirt," I quipped, ignoring the effect his joking words had on me.
"Just keeping it real," he said seriously, taking another drink of his Coke.
"Is that right?"
"You can bank on it."
"This weather is amazing," I said, changing the subject. I rolled down my window slightly to let the cool breeze flow in.
"Truth. It's much more enjoyable running in temperatures in the low forties and fifties versus the eighties and nineties," he explained.
"I wouldn't know anything about the whole running thing, or anything involving exercise for that matter, but I agree that the lower temperatures make everything better," I said, scrunching my nose disdainfully at the idea of running.
"You don't exercise?" he asked, looking at me like I was nuts.
"God no. Life is too short for something so disagreeable."
"Disagreeable? Now that's crazy talk. It's freeing and exhilarating. Not to mention an excellent way to clear your mind."
"I'll pass."
"What do you do to relax then?" he asked.
"I'm active in a lot of swinger clubs," I deadpanned, laughing as he swerved slightly.
"Kidding. Right now I'm tackling a list of things I would like to try. Hence, jumping off a bridge," I answered vaguely, not delving into the title of my list.
"What else?" he asked conversationally.
"Mostly things I've never had a chance to do. Make a snow angel, a canoe ride at night, a picnic in the moonlight, a snowball fight, stuff like that. I want to do as many items on my list as I can."
"All of that sounds cool, but why the rush to do them all now? You've got your whole life ahead of you."
"Sometimes life has a way of preventing you from doing the things you want to do the most," I answered evasively.
Silence filled the car following my words. Not an uncomfortable silence, mind you. We both just sort of lapsed into our own thoughts. His presence was comforting and felt right, which sent a warning flag in my head. Our relationship was supposed to be based on sex. Even though the sexual tension continued to hum at a low frequency between us, the tentative friendship we were forming was making its presence known.
"Favorite band?" Nathan asked, breaking the silence.
"Impossible to answer. First of all, there are too many genres I listen to, not to mention it's like asking a parent to pick a favorite child," I stated.
"Come on. You still have to have a favorite," he cajoled. "How about we narrow it down by songs?"
"That's even worse. Every song has a place and time, and it just depends on the significance they have on your life at the time. What about you?" I asked, smiling when he threw out a boy band song.
"Hey, laugh all you want, but the Backstreet Boys were good."
"You just don't seem like the Backstreet Boys type," I laughed. "Besides, I think they're like Backstreet Men now."
The rest of the ride raced by as we named off songs and the significances they held for us.
Thirty minutes later, we were debating the pros and cons of songs from the nineties, and what was currently hot on the charts, when Nathan pulled into the dirt lot on the side of Smith's General Store. For the first time that morning, there was an uncomfortable silence between us. I wasn't sure if it was my place to mention our next hook-up attempt or if he would. "So, I guess I better go in," I said, reaching for the handle.
He reached over and snagged my wrist. "I'll be here at six to pick you up," he said, pulling my hand up to his lips.