Conventionally Yours (True Colors 1)

“Your dad is a football coach?” Certain things about Conrad were starting to make more sense.

“Yup. Smaller religious college in Kansas. Been there over twenty years now, first as an assistant, then as the head coach. Every now and then he’ll get interest from a bigger program, but he never actually ends up leaving. So, where are we eating?”

“Do you trust Ohio pizza?” Picking up on his desire to change the topic, I surveyed a list of places along I-75, which would take us to the other side of Dayton where we needed to be. “Oh, wait. Their menu is showing pictures of square slices. Just no.”

That got another laugh out of Conrad. “Square pizza goes against Alden’s rules of order? How dare they.”

“Some things are not meant to be improved upon.”

“Says the guy who tinkers with his decks nightly,” he scoffed. A strange, warm feeling spread through my chest. What were we doing here? Joking like this? It was unfamiliar and more than a little unsettling. Needing distraction, I scanned the list of restaurants further.

“In the also wrong-bad category, they have a zombie-themed hot dog place. Cheap, but—”

“Put it in the GPS,” Conrad demanded. “This I have to see.”

“It’s nowhere near Halloween,” I complained even as I complied.

“I love scary movies any time of year,” he countered.

“And I’ve never seen the appeal. Deliberately scaring yourself? No thank you.” Life was bad enough all on its own. I didn’t need help getting scared silly, but I also didn’t want to be too much of a wet blanket. “But you go ahead.”

“See, this is where the whole never-hooking-up thing is working to your disadvantage.” Conrad dispensed advice as though he was a good ten years older than me, making my teeth grind together. “Watching scary movies definitely increases your chances of getting lucky. You’re all cringing and hiding your head and freaking out—”

“None of which is exactly sexy,” I had to point out. I’d had plenty of freak-outs, and none had ever turned me on in the slightest.

“You need more imagination.”

“You’re hardly the first to think that.” I paused to let the GPS direct us off the interstate. “But I’m still not seeing how you go from being scared to making out or something.”

“Subtlety. First, you sorta put your arm around the other person. Then you wait. And then before you know it, you’re kissing.” He made it sound ridiculously easy when I knew perfectly well that it was anything but. “That’s how it happened the first time for me at least.”

“When you were probably some absurdly young age. What were you, thirteen?” I tried to ignore the flush creeping up my neck at the thought of Conrad kissing anyone.

“Fifteen,” he corrected me with a smug tone. “His parents’ basement. He moved the next year, but man… While he was there, life was pretty sweet. Lots of horror-movie marathons.”

“I don’t need all the details.” I knew I sounded like a prude again, but for all that he told me to get an imagination, I wasn’t sure I could handle visions of Conrad tangled up with some nameless, faceless person. “And we’re almost there.”

The zombie-themed hot dog place looked like an old pizza parlor that someone had redone in shades of orange and black, decor from various horror movies on the wall, big spiders and other mutant creatures creeping along the counter where we ordered. Conrad got the “nightmare” dog, which had jalapeños, onion, and spicy relish loaded on it. I wanted to make a joke about how it was good he wasn’t planning on kissing anyone that day, but I wasn’t sure how to say it without making it sound like I was dropping a hint. Which I most definitely wasn’t.

At least I didn’t think I was.

Did having constant flashes of Conrad kissing someone mean that I wanted to kiss him myself? I honestly wasn’t sure anymore, and that made my stomach churn, back muscles tensing as I ordered my own chicken hot dog with only standard toppings. I wasn’t up for any bizarre combos that might make my insides that much more rebellious.

“Tater tots?” the bored cashier asked me after Conrad ordered just the hot dog and water.

“Sure.” I figured if nothing else, we could share.

“You want some?” I asked, putting the basket between us at the high-top table we’d snagged. The opposite wall featured a mural of a particularly creepy doll that made me keep my eyes on my food. “They gave me way more than I was expecting.”

“If you’re sure…” Conrad had already downed his hot dog in three bites and was eyeing the tater tots the way I did rare cards.

“Go ahead.” I had to hide a smile as he dug in. “Freegan” indeed. I’d had a feeling he was trying to cut expenses with his minimal order and might actually be hungrier than he was letting on. I made a mental note to try to feed him more. It was a practical thing. A fed Conrad was likely to be a more pleasant traveling companion. Mom and Mimi had often despaired over what they termed my lack of empathy, but I preferred to think of it more as selective caring. It was true that I struggled to see things like school and game losses from others’ perspectives, but other things—like wanting to help Jasper with his sister or Conrad be more comfortable—came easier to me. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but unlike my moms, I didn’t need an explanation for every quirk of my brain.