"What do you mean you hate mint chocolate chip?!"
"Exactly what I said!"
"That's just... Wow. Wow."
"What? I can't dislike something? There's plenty of people who don't like that flavor."
I took another lick of my cone. "Yeah, but there are also people who hate puppies and make babies cry."
Taz laughed incredulously. "Are you saying I'm one of those people?"
"Are you one of those people?"
"Do I look like a villain to you?"
My eyes flickered over his attire. After I agreed to his ice cream proposal, he went home to change out of his sweaty clothes and came back to pick me up. During his absence, I wound up locking myself in my room to avoid my mom's excited questioning about whether or not I was going on a date and if he was my boyfriend and how long we've been dating and when she can expect him over for dinner... Right. So when he knocked on the door again, I all but bolted out the house, dragging him with me.
Anyways, he was in a loose tee and joggers now, brown hair damp from a shower rather than sweat. He gave me a questioning look and I shrugged. "Thanos would wear sweats if he could."
"Wowww!" I giggled at his appalled expression, keeping in step as we walked down the street. "I don't believe this. I buy you the best ice cream in town and somehow I'm the bad guy." He shook his head, taking a lick of his strawberry ice cream as it started running down the chocolate dipped waffle cone in his hand. "The shit I take from you..."
My brows rose in astonishment. Granted I've only known him a month, but he rarely curses.
When he caught me staring, he bumped our shoulders. "You're lucky I like you, Hicks."
I smile inwardly at the thought, but just continue to indulge in my double scoop of mint chocolate chip instead of ruining the moment with some smart ass deflective comment.
We stay out for two hours or so, walking the streets and window shopping as we talked. I learned that when Taz said he wanted to talk about us, he meant us as people, and I mentally face palmed because I thought he meant— Well, you know what. Anyways, it was nice getting to know him. I already thought he was a decent enough guy, figured there wasn't a bad bone in his body, and I was right. He may be flirty and occasionally defensive, but he's easily a good person.
It seemed easy for him to open up, being as how he's such a straightforward person, but I had a bit more difficulty deciding what exactly was okay to discuss with - let's face it - my crush. Internally, I tried to come up with conversational pieces, like do I tell him about my music taste or movie preferences? Should I mention my favorite sounds or smells? Do I ask if he has a girlfriend or is it too early for that? Does he want one? Wait, does he even like girls? Should I even mention sexual orientation?!
"Um..." I probably would've short circuited if he hadn't suggested, "How about I ask the questions and you just answer the ones you like, okay?"
I nodded, a little embarrassed by the fact that I'd clammed up so easily.
"Favorite color?"
"Crimson."
"Favorite band?"
"Mmm, I think it's Fickle Friends right now."
"Favorite time of day?"
"...Seven-thirty?"
"In the evening, right?"
"Yeah, but what does that matter?"
Taz pursed his lips, eyes flitting over me quickly before he answered. "It only takes a few questions to figure a person out. You're, what, a Scorpio?"
Skeptical, I nodded.
"Yeah, I've already figured you out," he gloated, delighting himself in another taste of his ice cream.
"No, you haven't. That's imposs—"
"Nothing's impossible, Dana."
I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Tell me about myself, then."
He didn't hesitate. "Alright. You are distrusting, but you're also secretive and violent - your weaknesses; so you hate dishonesty and passive people. You prefer evening to morning, coffee over hot chocolate, and movies over shows. You are passionate and decisive, which is why you have no boundaries when you want to know something—"
"Hey!"
Laughing, he continued. "You seek intelligence and honesty in people, as you are quick-witted and smart yourself; you have a lot of friends because you're brave and dedicated, which makes you a leader, but you hide it because you aren't always sure of yourself. You're passionate and don't know how to handle it, so sometimes you really don't know what you want; and you're mysterious because, in actuality, you don't want anyone to know all of you." Punctuating the end of his description with a solid sigh, he turns to me expectantly. "Sound about right?"
At some point during his detailed dig, I had become flustered yet again, and the warmth in my cheeks and ears doubled at the certainty in his voice. Averting my eyes, I started walking again, mumbling a defiant "No" into my ice cream.
He laughed, knowing he was correct. "Yeah, I left out a few things."
I rolled my eyes and scoffed. "Like what, my DNA makeup?"
"Well, there's that," he began, still eating his ice cream beside me as we came to a red light, "and some other things, but they can wait."
"You may as well just say 'em since we're on the topic." There was a moment of silence and I glanced up at him to see his brown eyes already fixed on me. "What?"
He shook his head and smiled to himself, clearly lying when he said, "Nothing."
I didn't push it.
By nine forty-five, we were sitting on a bench on the waterfront and still chatting. There was only darkness spread out before us, but we could hear the waves; the nearby lampposts and distant music put me at ease as we sat under the night sky, shrouded from the stars only partly by the old oak tree planted mere feet away. The ambient atmosphere and good conversation brought me so much peace that, for the first time in a while, I could truly relax.
"Can I ask you something?"
Taz was sitting to my right with his hands in his lap, legs spread out before him as he turned to me under the lamp light. "What's up?"
"Am I really that easy to read?"
His surprise was hard to miss, but he answered just as smoothly as usual. "Not... always."
"What do you mean?"
He shrugged, brows creasing thoughtfully. "I don't know. It's like, you're not easy to figure out, but at the same time you're predictable. Sometimes."
"Not easy, huh? How'd you know all that stuff about me, then?"
He smirked.
"What?"
"Don't you read your horoscope?"
He was snickering at my scrunched expression, but I ignored it. "No. I don't believe in that stuff."
"You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"As accurate as that description was, you really don't believe in zodiacs?"
"I think it's all just coincidence. No star -especially not one that's most likely dead already and we're just seeing it's after image - is in charge of my fate, let alone my personality. It's entertaining sure, but it's not real."
"Then why was it right?"
I shrugged. "It was a coinciding occurrence."
He hummed as acknowledgement, but didn't push it further. I gave him a short nod, already done with the topic; though, to my surprise, he asked, "What about me?"
"What about you?"
"Am I easy to read?"
I scoffed. "You? Are you kidding?"
"...No?"
"Taz, trying to read you is like having a blind person read a map; that shit don't work."
Amusement made his eyes crinkle until a chuckle slipped out. "I'm not that bad."
I considered it. "Yeah, I guess."
"See."
"But you're too honest. Like, to the point where I'm thinking you're just messing with me."
"Well what am I supposed to do, be a basic bitch?"
It was my turn to giggle.
"I mean really, Dana, c'mon."
We both laughed, jubilant shimmers in our eyes as we sat there. We talked a while more, paying no mind to how much time had passed. I learned about his family, how he has a little sister and how close he is with his parents. He told me about how he came to like art and that even though he's been doing it for years, he probably won't go for a degree in that field. I understood why, but I still had to ask.
"Because," he shrugged, now directly next to me instead of on the other end of the bench. We were so close that when he shrugged, I could feel the fabric of his sleeve chafe against my own. "We live in a digital world, Hicks. If my paintbrush were a stylus then maybe I'd stand a chance. The only problem is I don't plan on going into the digital arts."
"Why not? Is it one of those authenticity things? Like taking polaroids instead of using your phone?"
He considered it a moment, tilting his head some. "Something like that. If I'm being honest with myself, though, it's just that I don't like computers." He chuckled. "The irony."
"How's it ironic?"
He turned his head to look at me, one eyebrow raised in bemused humor. "Because I'm Asian?"
"Wowww." I couldn't stop the oncoming bout of giggles bubbling in my chest.
"Don't 'wowww' me, I'm allowed to stereotype myself."
"You're ridiculous."
"And you're mesmerizing."
The humor died on my lips, bafflement replacing it instantly at his abrupt statement. His eyes were soft, but he was giving me that look again; the one that exudes unapologetic confidence without a trace of lust. It was a look that said he wasn't sorry in the least, and he'd be damned if he took it back. The rustling of the wind and quiet roar of the water was all that filled the silence between us, and I was grateful that it was loud enough to drown out the thundering pulse under my skin.
One corner of his mouth tugged in amusement at my speechless state. "What? Are we not stating facts?"
"Why do you say things like that?" My voice barely surpassed a whisper, but he was so close that it wasn't an issue.
He didn't shy away, didn't even turn his head so that our noses weren't inches apart. "Things like what?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
I expected him to shrug it off and give me some half-assed spiel about nothing, but once again my expectations were blindsided. Simple and soft, he gave me his reason as if he'd said it a hundred time already and didn't mind doing it a hundred more. "Because I like you, Dana. And, believe it or not, you make me really damn gushy."
Blood simmered under the skin of my face. "Gushy?"
"Yeah." He said it so casually, as if his words weren't melting me right before him. The familiar childlike gleam returned to his eyes just as they dropped to his fidgeting hands between his sprawled legs. "Like if I don't say something I'll just combust where I stand... Know what I mean?"
I was too busy trying not to let my brain fry to give anything better than a hum in agreement. How could he say that?! How could he just come right out and say that like it wasn't the most goddamn—
"Relax, Dana, I'm not asking you out," he chuckled.
My jaw dropped. "Then why'd you say all that?"
He shrugged. "I just felt like telling you. If I'm being honest, I've had a crush on you since I met you. You're so interesting... But who says I'll be here tomorrow to say all that?" He paused for a solid moment, licking his lips just as the wind gently teased his hair. "The time you get to enjoy with someone is limited, no matter who they are. I just don't want to waste it - yours or mine."
I felt my eyes soften at the weight of his words. It made me wonder if that's how he lives his life; saying and doing what he wants so that he won't regret anything at the end of the day. Something thick and heavy swelled behind my ribs as I realized he must've lost someone early on. Rather than opening that door, I let my lips curl softly.
"I appreciate that." My hand covered both of his in his lap, giving them a squeeze for emphasis. He didn't seem sad when he looked at me, but his smile was without pearls and didn't fill his eyes per usual. So I added, "It's not everyday I can find a guy who doesn't want to wasn't my time."
"Wow." I was glad when he laughed, shaking his head at my audacity to turn all he said into a joke. After a moment or two, he clapped his hands and let out a satisfied exhale. "Alright, it's getting late. I'll take you home."
I quirked a brow and checked the time as he stood up. "Late? Taz, it's only ten thirty."
"It'll take fifteen minutes to get you home. Plus we still have to walk all the way back to the car." His voice was caring and gentle on the night breeze as he held a hand out for me to take. "Come on, I don't want you out too late."
Hesitation delayed me, but I accepted his hand and let him pull me up from the bench. I tried not to focus on how warm his hold was, how strong and smooth his palm felt or the way his thumb momentarily brushed over the back of my hand before he let it go.
"You know," I said as we started walking back, "you should really work on the way you talk to girls."
He raised an inquiring brow. "Why's that?"
"You might give someone the wrong idea."
There was a pause before he asked, "You think I talk to all girls the way I talk to you?"
"Do you?" I challenged.
He quirked a brow. "Do you want me to?"
"Taz, you can talk to whoever you want."
"Oh, I know I can. But I'm asking how you feel about it."
"Doesn't matter." I shrugged. "I don't care."
"You wouldn't care if I took another girl on the exact same date and told her all the things I told you? That's what you're saying?"
I went quiet, suddenly agitated. A smug victory lined his eyes as he smirked. "That's what I thought."
By the time Taz walked me up my porch, I was tired and ready to go reintroduce myself to my bed. So I cut the conversation short and just thanked him for the ice cream.
"You're welcome," he said, all smiles again.
"And I gave you my number, right?"
"Mmhm."
"So that means you'll call me the next time you decide you wanna pop up at my house, right?"
"I feel like you'll hit me if I say no, so sure."
"...That wasn't very convincing."
"Fine!" He started backtracking down the steps, hands in the pockets of his hoodie and laughter in his voice. "I'll call you the next time I pop up. Happy?"
"Call me before—"
"You said when!"
"I—"
But he was already to his car and opening the door, calling, "Good night, gorgeous," before hopping in and starting the engine, leaving me to only roll my eyes and key open my front door.
***
I'm realizing these updates really might just come once a month, so I'll go back to shorter chapters.
Would y'all call this a date?
Is Taz talking to other girls?
Comment your thoughts and don't forget to vote if you liked it!