“What’s this for?”
“Your eye—it looks terrible. And if I know you, you didn’t ice it at all today. You might need your eye to be able to see and shit.”
“I think your shoulder needs it more.”
“Nope.” I grab the bottle of scotch. “This is all my shoulder needs.”
He doesn’t argue with me, probably because he feels guilty. He just puts the ice to his swollen eye.
Progress.
I smile to myself as I take a bite of the heavenly ice cream.
“I haven’t told you my story for the night,” I say after taking a few more bites.
“I’ll give you a pass for tonight, since you were shot and all.”
“You’re not getting out of story time with me that easily.”
“Story time with you? I thought I was the one torturing you by making you tell me stories.”
I put the spoon in my mouth and scrape the ice cream off with my teeth.
Langston stares at me like he’s entranced with my mouth, wishing he was my spoon right now.
“Nope, story time is about putting tiny little cuts into your heart every single night. I can’t kill you with one big blow, but I can kill you if I inflict enough scratches.”
“Okay, what story are you going to tell me tonight?” He leans back, resting his head on the headboard. He holds the ice to his eye, and I hold my spoon of ice cream up to his lips.
He hesitantly takes a bite. Now I’m the one who can’t stop staring at his lips.
“Liesel? Are you going to tell me a story or not? It’s been a long day, and I’d like to sleep at some point.” He says it like he’s irritated with me, but we both know it’s out of concern for me. He’s just looking out for me, making sure that I get sleep, which is the best thing for my shoulder.
Rest and time are the only things that will heal it now.
I lean back too, trying not to wince when my shoulder hits the headboard.
“I think we were twelve or thirteen; I can’t remember the exact year. That doesn’t really matter, anyway. You had just kissed Ruby.”
“Thirteen. I was thirteen.”
I hit his shoulder playfully. “Of course, you would remember how old you were when you kissed Ruby.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
I hem and haw. “Yea, probably. No more interrupting my story.”
He gestures to zipper his mouth shut.
I smile and get distracted by his adorable dimple.
No—focus.
“You and I rode our bikes together on the way home from school. I saw you kissing her earlier that day, and I teased you the whole way home.”
Langston’s face drops as he realizes the story I’m going to tell, but he’s not sure why I chose it.
“We got to your house, and I kept teasing you, even though I saw your father drinking beer in his chair. Even though I knew not to be loud. Even though I knew not to tease you about something your father wouldn’t approve.”