11. Violet
Chapter 11
Violet
“Constance really loves using a megaphone. A little too much. It’s more like an obsession,” Dustin says while we wait in line at The String Cheese.
“Yeah, she gets a kick out of it every year. I swear she tunes it up and keeps it on a pedestal.”
“I can picture it completely dust free all year, sparkling with a spotlight shining over it.” He looks at the menu and then back at me. “So, what’s good here? I’ve never been.”
“What did you just say? You’ve never been here! I thought you visited your grandparents' farm every summer.”
“I came every summer until I turned eighteen. My grandmother always made home-cooked meals. And at their house I wasn’t allowed to deny her cooking. So, we never ate out, not even once. Her cooking is superior to anything I have ever tasted, so I can’t complain. She makes a delicious apple crumble pie.”
“I love apple pie.” I’m a foodie through and through. I’ll try anything that sounds good. I fit in a run or two each week to burn off all of the excess calories, but I'm not obsessed with it. I love my curves and I’m not afraid to eat.
“She made one fresh today. I can save you a slice. While we prepare for the next challenge.”
“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” The thought bursts out of my mouth before I have time to think.
Something I do more often than not.
I shouldn’t question it, because I can’t resist apple pie.
“I’m starting to realize you’re not as bad as I thought. Don’t let it get to your head.”
“Does that mean we are friends?” I gasp, covering my mouth with one hand.
“Not even close, merely forced acquaintances.”
“What can I get for the big winners? Choose any meal and drink.” Joe, also known as Pizza Joe, says with a big grin.
“Do you like pepperoni and cheese?” I whisper to Dustin.
“Who doesn’t?” he whispers back. His breath against my ear makes me tremble. I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.
I roll my eyes. “Can we get a mega pepperoni roll with extra marinara? Also, a root beer for me please. What do you want to drink?” I turn towards Dustin.
“I’ll have the same as you.”
“Anything for the winners,” Joe says scribbling down our order on a guest check pad. “Daisy will be out with your food and drinks when they are ready.”
“Thanks Joe.”
We chose a table in the center of the dining room. There are a few other tables filled with locals grabbing dinner. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but do you ever drink?” Dustin asks sincerely.
I freeze. I wasn’t expecting that question. And I am most definitely not ready to divulge that information.
“I’m drinking a root beer.” I try to evade his question.
“You know what I mean,” he says while resting his arm on the table.
I’m hopelessly trying to come up with something to change the topic.
A few moments of silence pass and I am panicking. My skin is itchy all over, my palms are sweating, and I feel like I’m going to pass out from the anxiety.
“Wait, what is the next challenge?” he asks while Daisy sets our drinks on the table. I smile shakily at her, and she smiles back.
I’m grateful for the change in subject. I can tell by his furrowed brows and facial expressions that he doesn’t want to push me. Something about the way he changed the subject and trusted that I wasn’t ready to talk about it made my walls unfreeze a tiny bit.
Do I trust him? I don’t know yet. It’s too soon to tell. And definitely too soon to release the floodgates holding back my deepest secrets.
“Here’s your food, let me know if I can get you anything else. And congrats, that was one heck of a win!”
“Thanks Daisy, that means a lot,” I say.
Dustin shoves a huge slice of the cheesy dough in his mouth and moans.
“This is the best pepperoni roll I’ve ever had in my life. No wonder it’s your favorite food,” he mumbles, still chewing.
“See I told you, nothing beats it.” I laugh while taking another bite. Not even caring about the grease all over my face. Something about him is starting to make me feel at ease. I don’t have to pretend to be anything but myself around him. My thoughts are so conflicting, one minute I feel at ease, the next I can’t stand him. “The next challenge is to solve a 1,000-piece puzzle. We are each given the same puzzle. They pick a new one every year to keep it fair.”
He chews and then looks concerned. “I’m horrible at puzzles, what about you?”
“I am the worst. So we better spend some time practicing.”
“Lunch. Wednesday. It’s a date.” He holds out his hand for me to shake.
My brows quirk up and my eyes widen. It's at this moment when his blue eyes widen as well, realizing his slip up. I shrug it off and say, “It’s a strictly strategizing, acquaintance date.” And I shake his hand. The touch sends a warm zap through my fingers, and I pull away quickly.
Did he feel that too? This month is going to test me.