Healing Takes Time

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Thank God Marco was back to normal by the time we got to the lodge. The whole thing freaked me out, but if he was okay with it, then I was too.

I nudged his shoulder the best I could from my barstool. "How is it?" I asked. He was nursing a Mango Dream flavored ice cream cone.

When we got inside the lodge, he'd ordered that, and I'd ordered a shake with marshmallow and hot chocolate mix in it--a little bit of winter in the middle of summer because why not? It was all fine until it came time to pay for it. He'd pulled a couple bills out of his pocket and slapped them down right as I was telling the girl behind the counter to put it on my tab. She'd looked between the both of us helplessly, unsure of what exactly she should've been doing. Freckles and I'd had a staredown in the midst of her confusion.

"I lost. I pay," I'd said.

He'd set his jaw. "I want to pay for my own."

"We made a deal." I'd narrowed my eyes.

"I had my fingers crossed," he shot back.

"Well, that was a dick move."

"I'm paying for my own ice cream."

"It's only a dollar."

"So why won't you let me do it myself?"

We went back and forth for well over ten minutes. Talk about stubborn. It was intense too. He really wanted to pay for his own God damned ice cream. I was about to give in when I finally broke him.

So here we were, me with a triumphant grin, him with a weary posture and an ice cream cone.

"It's good," he replied. "Wanna try it?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

He stuck it out, almost hitting me in the face in the process. We both laughed, and he blushed. I stuck my tongue out for him to run his ice cream down. He did. I closed my mouth and swallowed. "That's pretty good," I noted.

"Mm hm," he said brightly.

I rolled my eyes affectionately at his super happy tone. Right then, another song came on the radio. One I knew really well. "We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off." Sure, it was an 80s song, but I actually liked 80s pop.

My eyes widened and I gasped quietly. Marco looked over. "What? What's wrong?"

I grabbed his shoulder. "I love this song."

"What song--"

"Not a word," I interrupted by placing my finger on his mouth as I was singing along with Jermaine Stewart, "from your lips. You just took for granted that I want to skinny dip."

"Jean, wha--"

"A quick hit, that's your game. But I'm not a piece of meat, stimulate my brain."

He stared at me as I sang and danced in my chair with a weird look on his face that screamed, Oh, God. Stop. Who even are you? I don't know this person at all.

"So come on baby won't you show some class? Why you want to move so fast? We don't have to take our clothes off to have a good time. Oh, no. We could dance and party all night and drink some cherry wine. Uh huh. We don't have to take our clothes off to have a good time. Oh, no. We could dance and party all night and drink some cherry wine. Uh huh. Na na na na na na. Na na. Na na na na na na. Na na. Na na na na na na. Na na. Na na na na na na. Na na!" I belted the chorus, grateful that no other people staying at the resort were in the lodge to hear me.

"Come on, Freckles! Sing with me!"

"Nope."

"What? Why?"

"No," he said firmly, but he was laughing.

"Please?"

"Nuh uh. No freaking way. You're nuts. I can't believe you like this song."

"A man wants to be approached cool and romantically," I sang. "I've got needs just like you. Give me conversations, good vibrations through and through.

"Please," I begged.

He sighed and started to sing along with me the best he could. By the end, he had the chorus down.

"Yes!" I yelled when it ended. I held up my hand for a high five. He just stared at my hand wearily. "Come on, man, don't leave me hangin'."

He continued to stare. "I'm not high fiving to that."

"Aw, why not?"

"This is a very low point in my life."

I just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. He sighed and buried his face in his hands.

"Okay then, Freckles. What kind of music do you listen to?"

He lifted his head to give me his attention again and shrugged. "I'm not picky. I listen to anything, but I really like songs that have some sort of emotion in it. What about you? Obviously you like 80s stuff." He smiled.

I grinned. "Duh. Well, I listen to really anything but country. I find myself listening to Alternative and Indie more. Old music is nice too. Anything that has good sound--as in it sounds... different from normal--or is about something somewhat meaningful."

"Wow, Jean. I didn't know you were so sentimental."

I kicked him in the ankle. "I'm not," I promised. "I'm very unsentimental."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, sure." He tapped my nose with his lips before he slid off the stool. I got up and followed him out the front door because I came to realize that I would always go after him.

* * *

Okay? So I got the prompt to write the song reference from being in the car with my mom, her fiancé, and my sister. That song came on, and in started singing along to it with Mom because we both like it when I suddenly thought, What if this was Jean's favorite song?

I just had to put it in.

Also, sorry to the people that like country music. Nothing against you, but I would rather not listen to it.

--Shelby