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Out of the corner of my eye, his teeth flash in a taut grin, and I laugh. “Come on. If you don’t answer, I’m going to assume the worst.”
“It is very rare that you are ever trying to lie, sunshine. So, no, your ability to lie doesn’t really bother me.”
“But it bothers you a little?”
“You heard the ‘really’ in there, huh?”
“I’m getting good at picking up on the nuances, aren’t I?”
He hums, all curled up on the seat, effortlessly handsome and painfully adorable. “It is important for you to be aware.” He taps his fingers against his knees as I take a congested exit that marks ten minutes from my parents’ home. “Lies aren’t good, so the concept of your capability creates some small amount of bother, but the knowledge of your character leaves me largely unconcerned. Lies make you uncomfortable. If ever I suspected you were dealing falsely with me, I could probably stare at you until you crumple and tell me every part of your life story.”
Despite his use of probably, which I have learned is a magic word that undoes just about every statement, he is not wrong. I am very in tune with shame and guilt. Another person’s disappointment leads me to tears. “It feels like I’m at a disadvantage. You’ve been able to spend a long time getting to know me, but I’m just starting now.”
“I’m sorry. I never intended to invade your privacy or personal space. My friends somewhat chucked me into those conditions when Willoughby could have spared me by claiming I was hers.”
“I’m glad she didn’t though.” The traffic finally moves enough to let me into the turning lane. “After all…you’re mine, right?”
His face heats before he can turn to look out the window and obscure the sight from my view. When he rustles the hair at his nape, the skin there is red, too. Soft, he says, “Yeah.”
“And I’m yours?”
His fingers dig into his knee. “If you want to be, maybe someday.”
Turning into my parents’ neighborhood, I mull over those words as I pass by trim lawns, pastel siding, and cookie-cutter buildings. “Why wouldn’t I want to be?”
Ollie wraps his arms around one lifted leg. “Next question.”
“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”
He snorts.
“What? You can turn into a dog. What if something happens, and I turn into a worm? It’s a perfectly valid question.”
“Is it now?”
“You’re deflecting. You would not love me.”
“I would love you, and I would miss you. I would search ceaselessly for a cure and write endless laments to count the days since last I heard your laugh. You would no doubt grow quite bored of my tears and wiggle away from me to start a little worm family in a sunflower bed somewhere.”
“Did you know that some worms can reproduce asexually since they have both male and female cells?” I pull into the drive of my parents’ house, right beside a lovely pale pink car adorned with anime stickers. “Even if you’re giving me a little worm family in this AU, I’d stay faithful and never take a little worm husband.”
Ollie stares at me as I put the car in park and cut the engine. Then, he says, “No father? Think of the little worm children, sunshine. Who will teach them to play catch?”
“I am a strong, independent single worm identifying as a mother, thank you very much. I can teach my kids to play catch just as well as any other worm might.” I push my hair back. “Seriously. You throw the ball. You catch the ball. You throw the ball. It says a lot about our society that something so inane is what fathers are best known for.”
“That and failing to retrieve milk, if my knowledge of human culture serves.”
“Playing catch and being unable to get milk. Good job, human fathers.”
We exchange a sardonic smile.
Then I hear a front door slam.
“Capybara!”
A smile washes across my face as Alana comes charging down the sidewalk, arms wide.
I jump out of the car in order to meet her hug.
