“Thank you, Caleb,” he says, lightly, as if he’s making a suggestion. “What a nice favor you did me.”
“She’s always like this?” I ask, as the two kids practically run into the Thai building, then stand there and stare up at the light projected on the ceiling. I shoot a glare in their direction, because they are really getting in the way of my good time.
“More or less,” he says, his thumb still rubbing over my knuckles. “Usually not this bad. I think she’s one of those artists who just gets… really absorbed, you know? And forgets about everything else.”
“Such as manners,” I say, just as another family makes their way toward us, across the bridge with a chorus of wow! And cool!
I look at Caleb. He looks at me.
I’m still trying to catch my breath from before. I’m still trying to process that I’m here, that I keep saying yes to this near-total stranger who feels like anything but. I’m still half-convinced that I’m dreaming, or down the rabbit hole.
“I should put the tools away,” he says, turning to me, in a voice that feels like lava trickling down my spine. “Would you mind giving me a hand?”
Some kids shout. A parent chastises. I’m pretty sure someone screams at a sibling.
“Away in the shed behind the building?” I ask, catching on.
“The very one,” Caleb says, already walking toward the rowboat. “Irresponsible to leave them in the boat like this. They could be taken, used as weapons…”
He hands me a hammer and a bungee cord, then grabs an armful of wood himself, and with every step toward the dark back of the Thai building my pulse gets faster and faster.
I haven’t exactly had a ton of boyfriends, but when I was a high school senior, I dated Mark Muncie for three months. I don’t think we spoke more than fifty sentences total to each other because pretty much all we did was try to find dark places to make out where we wouldn’t get caught. And sometimes, he touched my boobs, though I never let him take my shirt off.
Mark wasn’t memorable, but for a long time I remembered the thrill of getting my boobs touched in the darkened parking lot of an elementary school. For a few years afterward, sneaking around with Mark was the baddest thing I’d ever done.
This feels like that times one hundred. I know we’re adults. I know that we’ve got better places than this to make out, but I sincerely think that I might implode if I have to wait long enough to get to any of them.
We turn the corner of the pavilion, and suddenly, it’s dark. We’re on the edge of the botanical garden here, marked by a fence and then the deep, dense Virginia forest. There are no lights on this side of the building but the silhouette is outlined in bright neon.
He opens the shed, puts his armful of wood in. On the other side of this wall, kids are shouting and lights are blinking. Caleb holds out one hand for the hammer and as I hand it over, the silence between us finally becomes too much.
“You’re not a serial killer, are you?” I tease.
Caleb looks at me like I’ve suddenly started speaking Japanese.
“This would be a good setup is all,” I say, already wishing I’d said nothing. “You know, you lure a girl out here, behind a building, with the hammer…”
He just looks at me, hammer in one hand, hips slightly cocked and even in the dark his shirt clings to his chest in ways that make my mouth go dry, my pulse speed up.
Then he tosses the hammer end over end, catches it neatly.
“Is there anything else you’d like to accuse me of while we’re out here?” he says, and in the dark I can’t tell if he’s smiling or not.
This. This is why I’m still a virgin.
“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “It was a dumb joke.”
He tosses the hammer again, then places it neatly into the shed. Swings the doors shut.
“First a pickup artist, which, all right,” he says. “Then a serial killer, which you’ve got to admit was a bit much.”
“Unless you were actually a serial killer,” my mouth says without brain approval.
“Which I’m not,” he says, grabbing the combination lock from the top of the shed where he left it, spinning it around one finger. “Anything else, Thalia?”
He whirls the dial on the lock, holding it up to catch the light, and shoots me a teasing, challenging look. I relax, just a little.
Don’t say something mean or dumb, I tell myself. Just be slightly normal this once.
“A sea monster medic?” I say.
“All right,” Caleb says, pulling the lock open and fitting it through the door.
“A renowned rowboat captain?” I lean my shoulder against the door of the shed, a foot away from him, hoping I look casual and knowing that I probably don’t.