Page 51 of The Storm

I scratch my cheek while I think.

“Nothing?” he says. “Really? Exactly how boring is your life?”

“That’s an excellent pep talk. Have you ever considered a career in motivational speaking?”

“I’d tell everybody to fuck off and leave me alone, so I’d be out of a job pretty damn quickly.”

“You don’t think people would want to hear that? Shocker.”

He snaps his fingers somewhere that feels distinctly close to my face. “What’s with the silence?”

“So far I’ve gotten the impression you prefer it. I’m having trouble acclimating. What do you want to know?”

He lets out an impatient huff. “I don’t know. Fucking anything. Favorite food. Last time you fell on your ass. First crush. Whatever.”

“Abigail Jones. We were seven.”

Nick shifts a little under me before settling again. “That’s a good age for a serious commitment.”

“Oh, I was all in, so the emotional stakes were ridiculously high.” I grin.

“Obviously.”

“I made her a Valentine’s Day card, and not, like, a normal one. Nope. I went all out. I folded it into the shape of a heart. I origami’d that fucker.”

“Romantic.”

“I know. It really set the tone. And inside, I wrote this long message.”

“How long are we talking?”

“Multiple full sentences.”

“Wow.”

“I gave it to her at recess,” I say.

“In person?”

“Well, yeah. How else do you gift a meticulously crafted Valentine’s Day card?”

“That’s kind of badass, actually,” he says.

“She opened it right there in front of me.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “What did you write?”

“That she had a nice backpack and that she was good at drawing horses.”

“Everything you want in a girlfriend.”

“Once again, you have to have standards.”

“And?” he prompts.

“She finishes reading, and I’m waiting for… something. Like, for her to compliment my penmanship at the very least, you know? I worked really hard on that.”

“It’d be the bare minimum.”