“What picture?”
Before he can answer, Dominic, the same employee who was here last week, calls out to Pax that our order is ready.
“You ordered?”
“I didn’t know how much time you had. It seemed like the safer bet.” He heads to the counter to grab our order and returns with a tray filled with garlic knots and slices of pizza. He sets his elbows on the table but doesn’t lean forward or flash a smile or even a grin. “You like plans. You like lists. You’re dependable and hate to leave a list unfinished, which is why I’d bet twenty bucks you still have the scavenger hunt list in your purse so you can guess where the other spots are.”
“It’s not in my purse,” I tell him.
He stares at me, doubt turning his head.
“It’s in my glove box,” I mutter.
He smiles, and it’s easy and relaxed and genuine, making me strangely grateful to be here rather than trying to find a show to binge-watch by myself.
“I don’t know what I want to do for the rest of my life,” I tell him. “It feels like a huge and important question, and I don’t have this burning passion for doing a specific thing. I mean, I know too much about dinosaurs, the construction process, and psychology. That’s what I’ve been exposed to, and that’s what I know. I kept thinking I’d have this moment like Rae describes where her life seemingly changed and she knew what she wanted to do, but that moment has not happened.”
“Dinosaurs?”
“My little brother was obsessed.”
He nods once. “You always did well in school, though.” He adds the right amount of inflection to reveal he’s not entirely confident about this statement.
“I did well in school, but my top classes were English and debate.”
“You had a debate class?”
“And I was awesome.”
Paxton laughs, his gaze still on me. He gives a level of attentiveness that is borderline addictive. So often, with Chase, he would only pay attention if we were talking about him or rugby or a sexual innuendo. With Pax, I get his full attention all of the time.
The chime on the door rings, fracturing the moment. A group of girls recognizes him and approach our table without hesitation, greeting him with smiles and giggles. They’re young, maybe fifteen, yet completely defenseless to Paxton’s good looks.
I read over the same paragraph in my textbook three times, paying entirely too much attention to how the girls react to Pax. It’s innocent and awkward and makes me think of a great YA novel and of being the same age and going to watch Paxton at his games and practices over the years.
They leave only long enough to place their order, then wander back and ask for autographs and pictures, which Pax agrees to with a smile. They stick around while waiting for their food, adding to my amusement as they try to make small talk with him. Pax talks with them, answering questions about football and school. He talks to them like they’re his equals like he speaks with me, and Rae, and his teammates—everyone, except for his dad, now. When their pizza slices are ready, Pax thanks them for their time, gracious and so damn Paxton-like.
“Want something to drink?” he asks, turning his full attention to me again.
I shake my head and take a bite of my cheese and olive pizza.
He points at my textbook. “If you like to debate so well, you could consider going into law. Lawyers love to debate, ask Lincoln.”
My nose crinkles. “Yeah, but look at Lincoln’s dad. Six wives later, I think we can agree he’s married to his career.”
Pax grins. “You could get a business degree like I am. That way, you get exposed to the full gamut and can decide later.”
I nod. “Yeah, maybe.”
“That response sounded painful. You have no idea what you want to do?”
“Sometimes, I think I want to be a teacher.”
His face brightens. “You’d make a great teacher.”
“But what if I hate it? What if I get a terrible kid in my class who always talks back. Or the class clown? What if they all think I’m boring and stuffy?”
“What if you inspire some kid to be the next president? Or to want to come to school? What if you give some kid hope? Or teach them something badass about dinosaurs? By the way, I need more information about dinosaurs. Are we talking about how big they were? Their names? What kind of random facts are stuffed into this head?” He reaches forward and gently taps the top of my head.
I try to offer a smile. “Random stuff that will never help me in life.”
He laughs. “Lies. Educate me.”
“Did you know the word dinosaur is Greek, and it means terrible lizard?”
“Lizard?”
I nod. “It’s weird to think about it now, but people didn’t know dinosaurs existed until the late eighteen hundreds, around the same time we discovered electricity, just to put that into perspective. The very first dinosaur fossil was found a couple of hundred years earlier by a man named Robert Plot who thought it belonged to a giant human, but later in eighteen twenty-two a woman named Mary Ann Mantel and her husband found some dinosaur teeth that they thought belonged to giant iguanas, hence, terrible lizards.”
“You could be a paleontologist.”
“I don’t know. I know all of this random stuff because Dylan was obsessed. I learned it because he loved it.”
Pax stills, his blue gaze turning a shade of sincerity that makes me fidget. “You’re a good sister.”
I should probably point out that he’s a great brother and reciprocate the compliment, but the air is heavy, making me desperate to change the subject. “What are your plans this week?”
“Football, football, and more football.” He flashes a smile. “You should talk to my mom. She taught forever. She’d be able to answer questions and offer some good insight. You know she won’t sugarcoat anything. That, or have you considered something with fashion?”
“Fashion?”
He nods, dropping his elbows
