“Telling you about racing made me miss her.” He licks his spoon, the sight of his tongue doing things to me. Twisting me up inside.
Making me want him.
“She’s a her, huh?”
He nods, dunking his spoon back into his milkshake and swirling it around. They served the milkshakes to us in those old-fashioned green glasses, the spoon handles skinny and long so they can reach the bottom. “Never actually named her though.”
“You should,” I suggest, trying to slow down from eating too much ice cream. I still have a cheeseburger and fries to enjoy. “What girl names do you like?”
“Charlotte.” He grins, a thin line of chocolate sitting on his upper lip. “That name is cute.”
“Too formal.” I tap my upper lip. “You’ve got—”
“Thanks.” He grabs a napkin and cleans his face. “You don’t like your name?”
I shake my head. “I always wanted an ‘ee’ name.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Rylie. Kylie. Mylie. Kaylee. Hailey. All my friends in school had names like that. Even my cousin Sylvie. And here I was with a total clunker of a name. Charlotte.” I make a face and shake my head, giving in and shoving a big scoop of strawberry ice cream into my mouth.
“I like Charlotte,” he says and I’m sure he’s just saying that to make me feel better, though I don’t say that out loud. “I have an ‘ee’ name as you call it. And I hate it.”
“You want me to be truthful with you?”
He nods, his expression turning serious. “Always.”
“When I first saw your name, I thought you were an old man.”
He leans back against the bright red booth seat, shaking his head. “It’s the worst. Who the hell else do you know my age named Perry?”
“It makes you stand out.”
“It sucks.”
“Why were you named Perry? Do you know?”
“Old family name, I guess. That’s what I’ve been told at least.” He swirls his spoon in the ice cream, pulling it out to lick it again.
He needs to stop doing that. He’s making me squirm.
“Why were you named Charlotte?” he asks me when I still haven’t said anything.
“Old family name,” I repeat with a faint smile. “There are a couple of Charlotte Lancasters out there that predate me.”
“You talk to your parents lately?” he asks, seemingly out of the blue.
I study him, wondering what he’s getting at. But his expression is completely neutral and he keeps licking at his spoon which is a distraction. “No. Not really.”
“What do you mean, not really?” His voice is casual, but there was a sharp gleam in his eye for a moment.
Now it’s gone.
“My mother called earlier today to make sure I made it back okay. I told her I did. Then I had to go because Jasper was showing me what he taught Doja to do.”
Perry frowns. “What did he teach her?”
“How to fetch! It’s the cutest thing. He balls up a piece of paper and throws it, and she goes and gets it and brings it back to him! I tried it with her but she kept bringing the paper ball to Jasper instead.”