About an hour into our late-day beach trip, we decide that we really just don't want this day to be over. Since most of our day was spent sightseeing, our solution is to spend a night out of the beach, under the stars. It sounds romantic, maybe that's just me, but it's just an observation. He's taking me night-fishing off the pier first of all, and then he said he has a picnic planned out on the beach. Who knows what else he has up his sleeve, but I guess I'm in for it.
At the moment, we're at a little restaurant on the pier, overlooking the water from the window booth we sit at. People are still surfing, dragging out the last hour of light before it gets dark. And the sunset gives Tanner a glowing look that hits him perfectly on his side of the booth.
"...what about egg on your burger? Do you still like that?" Tanner asks, his fingers tapping every few moments on the table. The place is relatively crowded, mostly laid back though, and that's my favorite part.
"Mmm, yeah, sometimes," I decide, shrugging. I take a fry from my plate and dip it a couple times in my chocolate milkshake.
"You still do that?" He nods to the milkshake. Laughing, I nod a couple times.
"It's great. Try it," I insist, pushing the basket and milkshake toward him. He grins but shakes his head, his nose scrunching up like it always does when he's unsure of something. I, personally, find it adorable. Although, some people back when we were kids use to make fun of him when he did that because he wasn't always the cutest kid. He was always a big chubbier in the face, and had more baby fat than actual fat, but I never thought of him as ugly. I thought of him as my best friend, because that's what little kids think. They can overlook pretty much anything.
Anyway, he hit what he liked to call "pre-puberty" in 7th grade where he absolutely lost a lot of his baby weight and he started working out. The real change happened in the summer before 9th grade year. Anyone could tell you, he got hot. It was like he had grown up within a couple months, and after a month in Florida with his mom and uncle, he came back tan and regardlessly handsome. I hadn't truly picked up on much, other than he looked better, but I knew somewhere inside I had to be looking at him a bit different. But, even then, he reigned true as my bestfriend despite his appearance change.
"Seriously," I say, pushing it back toward him. "Once. Just once is all I'm asking."
He pushes his lips to the side, then swipes one finger into the top of the shake and into his mouth.
"I didn't come all the way to LA just for you to ignore an easy task," I frown. "Do you want to be a chicken? Did we come here just for you to chicken out on something this simple?"
His mouth falls open slightly and a soft amused face replaces his expression. "A chicken? That's where I draw the line, Swift. You can call me a douche, a jerk, selfish, ignorant, whatever. But Tanner Wilde is no chicken."
"Then do it,"
He snorts and straightens up, grabbing a fry and dipping it in one quick motion. His expression tightens, then glances up and away into space for a second, as if considering if he likes it.
"Verdict?"
"Not horrible." He shrugs.
"So are you leaning toward good or not good?"
He makes a motion with his hands weighing the options, then shrugs again. "I would probably say no but I'm scared of what you'd do."
"Oh, if you say you don't like it, we're breaking up," I joke, trying to keep a straight face but losing my composure quickly. There's a fleeting moment of fear that crosses his features but it vanishes into a burst of laughter.
