I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Mr. Smooth, so you’re not spoiled, but try to refrain from insulting my town.”
He tried to swallow his smile and failed. “You got it. My sincerest apology.”
We were quiet as we drove out of my neighborhood and toward Main Street. When we passed the high school and turned onto the road that would lead us out to the highway, I shot Jake a curious look. “Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he turned off onto Brenton Fields and pulled the truck to a stop in the middle of the open. There was nothing around us but grass, trees in the distance, and a starry sky above. Jake grinned at me again and got out of the truck, leaving his MP3 player playing through the radio, the truck’s headlights on. He helped me out and holding my hand led me to the truck’s rear. I stood, my belly still fluttering with girlish excitement as I watched Jake spread out a blanket on the truck bed and pull a cooler out of the corner. He took out some sandwiches, cookies, chips, and two bottles of water.
“Dinner awaits.” He held out his hand. I laughed as he pulled me onto the bed.
I was glad I’d brought a sweater. We were nearing October and the temperature drop was more noticeable at night.
Still laughing, I bit into my peanut butter sandwich.
Jake smirked at me. “What?”
“Nothing,” I giggled now, which made him grin even harder. “I just think you might’ve watched too many movies set in small-town America in the fifties. We don’t really do the date in the back of a pickup thing. We usually hang out in each other’s rooms surrounded by modern technology.”
He clamped a hand over his chest as if I’d shot him. “I’m crushed. And here I thought this shit was romantic.”
I laughed harder. “This shit is romantic.” I stifled my giggling and gave him a genuine smile. “Thank you.”
Jake nodded in return and settled back against the truck. “You know, you’re not like other girls our age.”
I quirked an eyebrow in interest. “I’m not?”
“Nope. I find it incredibly hot how cool you are.”
“I think that’s what they call a paradox, my friend.”
“I mean … you’re not into drama or gossip or mindless, stupid stuff that doesn’t matter. I watch you with your friends and if one of them starts drama for no reason, you walk away or ignore it while the rest of them fan the flames. When they gossip about someone, you roll your eyes, and if it’s mean gossip, you tell them to grow up. Not a lot of sixteen-year-old girls have the balls to do that. Not a lot of fourteen-year-old girls have the balls to throw themselves in front of an SUV to save their sister, either.”
I groaned. “Oh God, don’t buy into that, Jake. Anyone else would’ve done the same.”
“No.” My eyes sharpened on him at the gravity in his voice. “No, they wouldn’t.”
I squirmed a little under his intense regard. “Jake …” I sighed, lowering my sandwich and staring at anything but him, “for all my cracks about being awesome … I don’t want you to build this idea of me in your head … an idea that I can’t live up to. I’m just Charley. An ordinary girl from Lanton, Indiana.”
“I don’t agree with you.”
My chest felt too full, my whole body tense with whatever heaviness was settling around our picnic on his truck bed. We’d only been on our date for twenty minutes, for goodness’ sake, and already we were in Seriousville.
“Charley, look at me.”
I did as he asked and found the breath leaving my body again at the look in his eyes.
“This shouldn’t be possible,” he whispered, “but somehow, it’s happening. You’re something special to me, and I can only hope that I’m something special to you.”
“I barely know you,” My brain murmured logic; my heart screamed its opposite.
Jake shook his head slowly. “I don’t know if that’s true.”
We were silent a while, eating our sandwiches and listening to the radio.
Finally, not able to contain it, though I knew it was insane, I whispered, “You’re something special to me.”
Jake turned his head, his eyes glittering in the dark. “Yeah?”
I ducked my head, embarrassed. “We haven’t even kissed yet.”
“It’s going to be epic.”
“What if it’s not?”
Jake threw his head back and laughed. “Are you this pessimistic about everything?”
“No. I’m just asking a question.”
“Trust me. It’ll be epic.”
I took a drink of water, eyeing him carefully. I swallowed and wiped my lips dry. “This overconfidence of yours could definitely become a problem.”
“It’s not a problem. You love it.”
“No, I love cheese fries, chocolate milkshakes, The Killers, Metric, Lucky jeans, my mom and dad and Andrea.”
Jake chuckled. “In that order?”
I narrowed my eyes playfully. “Maybe. What do you love?”
“Gio’s Pizza: the best pizza in Chicago, Reese’s peanut butter cups, the White Sox, Pearl Jam, Silversun Pickups, Bob Dylan, The Smiths, my pickup, my mom and dad and maybe Luke too.”
I nodded and then asked casually, “Have you named your pickup yet?”
“Nah, but I was thinking The Vedder.”
My eyebrows puckered together in confusion. “Why?”
Jake flinched like I’d shot him. “After Eddie Vedder. Lead singer of Pearl Jam?”
I shrugged. “Sorry. I’ve never listened to their stuff.”
Yup, this time my words had shot him. Jake shook his head. “No, no, no. Okay, no. I’m not dating a girl who has not listened to Pearl Jam. You can borrow my CDs.”
I laughed. “It’s cool. If you feel that strongly about it, I’ll download their albums.”
“Uh, one, there are a lot, and two, it’s Pearl Jam. You have to listen to them on CD.”
I tried not to laugh again, my lips twitching with the urge. “Okay.”
“Never listened to Pearl Jam,” he muttered, incredulous.
Choking on laughter, I replied, “It’s not a punishable crime.”
“That’s a shame. I could find a very creative way to punish you.”
I blushed and threw a napkin at him. “You have a filthy mind, Mr. Caplin.”
He grunted. “Of course I do. I’m sixteen years old.” He pushed the picnic up the blanket and I watched warily, wondering where he was going with this. In the end all he did was stretch out on his back, arms behind his head as he gave me an inviting smile. Casually, I lay down beside him, feeling the heat of his body as if it were pressed against mine. I’d left space between us so he wouldn’t get any funny ideas.
While we stared up at the stars, it occurred to me that we were lying there in this perfectly comfortable silence I’d never felt with anyone before.
“Just call it ‘Eddie.’”
Jake snorted. “What?”
“‘The Vedder’ doesn’t trip off the tongue. Eddie’s simpler.”
“You want me to call my pickup ‘Eddie’?”
“It’s just a suggestion.”
“He’s not the dog from Frasier. He’s a pickup.”
“Call him ‘Ford’ then.”
“He’s not a businessman with a stick up his ass.”
Now it was my turn to snort. “Zorro?”
“I get the feeling you’re not taking this seriously.”
“No, I am. Naming a truck is very important. I was going for masculine. Powerful.”
“And you came up with Zorro?”
“The Hulk? Batman? The Batmobile?”
“I’m not even humoring you on those.”
“Alan? Bob?”
“You’re so lucky you’re cute.”
“Ozzy? Lennon? Morrison? Joplin?”
“Charley …”
“Hendrix.”
Jake stilled next to me and I felt his gaze on my face as he turned to stare at me. “I like that,” he murmured softly.