Page 20 of Puck
“Dream on, Bullwinkle.”
“Oooh, a classic cartoon reference. Now you’re talking my language.”
I couldn’t help a grin. “You like cartoons?”
“Hell yeah! The classics, though. Looney Tunes, Rocky and Bullwinkle, Mickey Mouse, The Flintstones, The Jetsons, Transformers. I’ll even include the 1990s Batman animated series, but I usually stick to pre-1990.”
I couldn’t help a thrill of excitement. “Cartoons are my secret indulgence. I have all the Looney Tunes on boxed set, like literally every single one ever made.” I felt a blush creep over my cheeks. “I have a sacred ritual. Every Saturday and Sunday morning, I eat a huge bowl of cereal and I watch cartoons in my underwear.”
“Chuck, Fritz, or Tex?” he asked.
I sighed. “How am I supposed to pick?”
He grinned. “Good answer. Why? Why cartoons?”
I hesitated. “That would probably count as my personal and revealing anecdote.”
“We’re back to that?” He ran his fingers through his beard. “I thought I had successfully diverted us away from that. Damn.”
I couldn’t help a laugh. “Nice try, but no.”
He snapped his fingers and then pointed at me. “You’re good, Miss Danvers, I’ll give you that.” A few moments in silence.
“Okay, we’ll do this in two stages,” Puck said. “Stage one, we trade heavy personal shit. You tell me why you like cartoons, why you have a sacred weekend ritual—and don’t think I missed the fact that you watch them in your underwear. I have this image of you in superhero boy briefs and nothing else, eating cereal out of a mixing bowl, watching Bugs Bunny. Don’t ruin it for me with the truth.”
“And in turn you’ll tell me what?”
“I’ll let you choose between three options: how my dad died, what my tattoos mean, the tragic story of how my first and only serious girlfriend died.”
“Molly Clancy?”
He shook his head. “That was innocent hormonal teenage infatuation. We walked from our neighborhood to the mall twice a week and had fumbling, awkward sex in her parents’ basement.”
I thought hard. “And the second stage?”
“What I suggested—I’ll tell you about how I ended up being a virgin’s first, and in turn, you have to tell me something of equal value.”
“And what would you consider equal value?”
He bobbed his head to one side. “That’s up to you, but it has to be sexual in nature.”
I nodded. “Okay. Fine. You’re on.”
He gestured to me. “Ladies first.”
I laughed. “Oh no. This whole trade personal stories thing is your idea, so you go first.” I glanced out the window. “Where are we going, anyway?” I asked.
“I was just thinking about that.” He gestured behind us with his head. “I’m going to try to find somewhere we can wait for Anselm’s guy to call me. We can’t just drive around forever.”
Somehow, Puck’s hand found its way near mine, and I stared at him then back down our hands, which had somehow managed to get all tangled up, resting on the cracked vinyl armrest of my seat.
I stared meaningfully at our hands. “Um. Puck?”
He gazed at me, a study of innocence. “Colbie?”
“Why are you holding my hand?”
“Because I want to. Because I’ve been walking next to you thinking about holding your hand, and it’s wigging me the fuck out. Makes me feel like I’m twelve instead of thirty-seven.” He squeezed my hand. “So I’m holding your hand. Because I want to.”