"Of what?" She laughed. "Seventh grade?"
I shrugged. "Hey, it happens."
"Oh stop it. He's in the gifted program." She gave a playful eye-roll. "And no, he's not flunking out."
"So tell me about him," I said.
And so she did. Some of the stuff I knew. Other things, I didn't. He played the oboe and was on the math team. He liked the Detroit Red Wings and was a picky eater.
"I can relate," I said.
"To which part?" she asked.
"Well, I sure as hell can't play the oboe." I smiled across the table. "I'm talking about the eating thing."
"You?" She was laughing again. "A picky eater? Oh, please."
"Well, I hate seafood."
She shuddered. "Don't we all?"
Not as far as I'd seen. Other than Chloe, almost everyone else I knew loved it. But me, I hated it for a good reason, and it wasn't one I liked to talk about.
I was a guy who'd been punched, kicked, and called just about every name in the book. Sure, I had some scars, but most of it just bounced off me. But when it came to shellfish, I was allergic as hell, as I'd found out the hard way a few years earlier.
The way the doctors talked, I'd almost died. But I liked to think of it differently. I hadn't died. And now I knew that I hated seafood for a damn good reason.
Superman had kryptonite. Me? I had seafood. Talk about embarrassing.
I changed the subject. "How about Erika?"
"What about her?" Chloe asked.
"The way you talk, she sounds kind of wild." I made a show of lowering my voice. "What's the worst thing she talked you into?"
"Hey," Chloe said in a teasing tone, "maybeIwas the one talkingherinto stuff."
Now,thatwas interesting. "Were you?" I asked.
"I wish." Her tone grew more serious. "Nah, I was always focused on other stuff, you know?"
I didn't know. But I wanted to. "Like what?"
She waved away the question. "Okay, you wanna know the worst thing she talked me into?"
I leaned forward. "What?"
Chloe gave an embarrassed laugh. "Getting my belly-button pierced."
I felt my gaze drift downward. I couldn’t see Chloe's belly-button, not through the table, but suddenly, I wanted to. Her skin was smooth, and she had the cutest belly-button. "Yeah?" I said, feeling the corners of my mouth lift. "Is it still pierced?"
She laughed. "You know the answer to that. No."
"You sure? I could check."
"You could," she said, "but we'd probably get kicked out of here."
It was a risk I was willing to take. Looking at her, I couldn’t stop smiling.
