Page 160 of Bend

“You?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought your whole thing was being annoyingly calm about everything.”

“I’m calm. I’m not stupid.”

Her mouth twitches, and I look toward the road.

“There are places out there where I know exactly how small the margin is. I know what happens if I miss the braking point or get greedy with a line. Pretending that doesn’t scare me wouldn’t make me better at this. It’d make me careless.”

Echo’s expression changes, some of the sarcasm easing out of it.

“So you don’t ever take fear as a sign that maybe you shouldn’t be doing it?”

“Sometimes. Depends what the fear is telling me.”

She turns a little more toward me.

“If it’s panic, if I don’t trust the bike or myself, then yeah, I listen to that. But being aware that something can hurt you isn’t the same as being incapable of doing it.”

I reach over and pull the ruined strip of label out of her fingers before she tears the bottle completely bare.

“Fear doesn’t always mean stop, waŋyéča. Sometimes it just means pay attention.”

She watches me for a second, then she exhales through her nose.

“I really hate it when you make sense.”

“I know.”

I laugh, and she bumps her shoulder against mine. The silence after that feels easier, so, I let it sit for a minute before asking, “What are you doing tonight?”

Her eyes narrow immediately.

“That question sounds suspicious.”

“I’m asking you out.”

That catches her enough that she stops peeling the label.

“Like an actual date?”

“Yeah.”

She studies my face. “You planning something horrifyingly romantic?”

“Depends how horrifying you find food and an ocean.”

“That’s manageable.”

I slide two fingers through the belt loop at her hip and tug her a little closer.

“I know I agreed to share.”

A smile starts.

“How generous of you.”