Page 69 of What We Brave
Nope.That's not what this is. That's not even in the same universe as what this is.
And isn't that the most confusing thought I've had in the last week. And considering how confusing the last week has actually been, that's saying a lot.
The crowd thins near the food trucks. Reid drops his chin on the counter of Marco's truck like he and the vendor are old friends.
"Okay, be honest with me," Reid says. "The habanero or the verde? And I need you to take this seriously because Iwillcome back and hold you accountable."
The vendor—a stocky guy with a huge grin and forearms like tree trunks—laughs. "Verde. But the habanero, she's got a kick. You like the heat?"
"I live for the heat. My buddy here—" Reid jerks a thumb at Blake without looking. "He thinks ketchup is spicy."
"I've never said that," Blake says from behind me.
"You didn't have to. I've seen you eat."
The vendor is already laughing, pulled into Reid's orbit the way everyone gets pulled into Reid's orbit. It's effortless. Like breathing.
Blake hangs back, hands in his pockets, still removed, still observant. But there's something looser in his posture now. Reid's energy is hard to resist, even for Blake.
Reid orders for all of us without asking what I want. Normally that would annoy me. Tonight, somehow, he gets it exactly right—carnitas for me, al pastor for himself, and something simple and no-nonsense for Blake.
He hands the plates back. Blake automatically trades me a stack of napkins for my extra salsa cup, our hands brushing. We shift around each other on the wet pavement, settling into a tight little triangle. I look at Reid, practically vibrating with joy over a taco, and then at Blake, a quiet, solid wall at my back.
How could I possibly choose?
I almost laugh out loud at my own arrogance.Listen to yourself, Laine.Like I'm some prize they're both desperately lining up for. It's ridiculous. Reid might want me now, but he doesn't know I kissed his best friend. Once he finds out, nobody is going to be choosing anybody. It's just going to detonate. This could be the absolute lastnight I ever get this happy, unfiltered version of Reid. The last time the three of us stand in a circle without the air turning toxic.
I should be sick to my stomach. I should be bracing for the fallout. Instead, I'm standing here soaking up the way they balance each other out, wishing I could just freeze us right here. Both of them. Together. At the same time.
I take a very large bite of my taco and think about literally anything else.
The tacos are ridiculous. Carnitas with pickled onions and a salsa verde that makes my eyes water. Reid groans around his first bite, this low, satisfied sound that makes me laugh despite everything.
"Good?" I ask.
"I think I'm having a religious experience. I'm converting. To whatever religion worships this man's grandmother." He takes another bite, eyes closed, one hand over his heart. "This isart."
"It's meat in a tortilla," Blake says.
"You have no soul." Reid wheels toward me, outraged. "Tell him, Laine. Tell him this man is an artist and Blake is committing a hate crime against his craft."
"I'm not getting involved."
"Coward." He shakes his head mournfully, then steals a piece of Blake's taco right off the plate. Blake doesn't even flinch—just shifts his plate a quarter inch closer to Reid, like he expected it.
This is the version I remember. The easy rhythm they fall into when they're not trying so hard. Maybe they're going to be okay.
We find a bench near a fountain that's been turned off for winter, eating in comfortable silence while people flow past. Reid sits sideways with one leg tucked under him, pointing out a kid having a full meltdown over dropped ice cream.
"That kid is all of us," Reid declares. "That kid is living the human experience right there."
Blake quietly trades his extra taco to Reid when Reid finishes his first. Doesn't that just sum up the man. He gives in every aspect of his life.
"So," Reid says, wiping his hands on a napkin and bumping Blake's shoulder with his own. "How's work been, Laine?"
Normal conversation. We're having normal conversation like normal people. Weird. "Helped deliver a baby last week. She didn't even make it off the paramedic's gurney."
"Laine! That's so cool! I remember my first delivery. I threw up after. And I couldn't watch Aliens for like six months after that."
