Page 191 of Defend Me
“Am I gonna come home with bug bites?”
“For sure. If you’re really dumb, you might wipe your ass with poison ivy.”
“Ugh. Don’t tell me someone’s done that before.”
I laughed and dropped my head back to rest on his shoulder. “Someone’s done everything. That’s why they have stupid as fuck warning labels that should be common sense.”
“We don’t do that here.”
“No smooth brains allowed.”
The sound of a camera made me turn. Brooks’ dad was standing at the end of the bridge, aiming his phone at us. It clicked a few more times, then I ducked my head.
“He keeps his sound on,” I said with a laugh.
“He’s old.”
Noah came up beside us and started typing on his phone. Every tap made a sound and it went against one of my core tenants: keep my phone on vibrate at all times. His probably rang at full volume. The horror.
“You’ve been around for three days,” Brooks noted. “Can you not start building a whole album?”
“I’m sorry,” Noah said sarcastically. “You’ve never had a real relationship before and I’m happy for you. I want to put a picture on my desk.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“You can get one of those digital frames,” I suggested. “Then, you can have it switch between a bunch of pictures.”
“Sounds like I need more.”
Brooks huffed. “Tilian, if you keep saying the unfiltered things that come into your head, I’m gonna have to duct tape your mouth closed.”
“I meant to say that one.”
He positioned his lips at my ear and dropped his voice low. “A ball gag, then.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Brooks.”
“Baby, I’m this close to carrying you out of here.”
Ducking under his arm, I started walking backward. “There’s a whole trail up to Larch Mountain. Think you can survive it?”
“Yeah, I’m a fitness connoisseur.”
“It’s thirteen miles round trip.”
His brows raised, then he started to head back down toward the parking lot. I laughed as I watched him.
“He’s going to come back,” Noah said.
“I don’t know. He’s competitive, but he’s not dumb.”
He nudged my shoulder when Brooks stopped walking. He bounced on his toes a few times, then turned around.
“If I survive this,” he said, grabbing my hand, “you’re rubbing my feet for the rest of the night.”
“No, I don’t do feet.”
“I’m not asking you todomy feet.”
