TITLE: Canadian Summer
GENRE: NA Contemporary
Roy and Summer are eating Ice cream and getting to know each other. Summer dares Roy to tell her something he wouldn't normally tell someone he just met.
“Okay, I’ve got one,” Roy said, then hesitated.
“Let’s hear it. It took you long enough.”
“Hey, I have to go first. Take it easy.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, here it is: sometimes, I, uh, well, I like graphic novels.” He waited for her to laugh. She didn’t.
“That’s it?” She hit the table. “All that hemming and hawing, and it’s just that you like to read comic books?”
“Not comic books, graphic novels.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She made air quotes. “Graphic novels.”
“Well, what did you expect? You thought I would admit to killing someone or something?”
She smiled. “No, it’s just that I can’t believe you found that little tidbit hard to share. You made it such a big deal. Lots of guys read graphic novels.”
“I guess.” He felt kind of dumb now.
“You know, guys who live in basements.” She smiled. “You don’t have, like, costumes or anything, right?” She pushed her cup to the middle of the table.
He laughed. “No, nothing like that. Now you tell me something.”
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Summer stacked her cup inside his.
“It can’t be any worse than mine.”
“Yes, yours sucked.”
“So tell me something then.” He grinned. “What’s your deep dark secret?”
“I knit.” Her face reddened. He just looked at her.
“I knit. You know.” She pantomimed knitting.
“You mean like knitting? Like, grandma, old-lady knitting?” Roy’s eyes widened. “Like sweaters and stuff?” Roy sat back in his chair. She nodded.
“I used spend summers in Texas with my dad. When he went to work, he left me at my grandma’s house. That’s all she did.”
“Damn.” Roy scratched his chin. “So you could make me a sweater with a reindeer on it right now?”
“I’m not that good. I usually just do scarfs. It helps with stress. It’s weird, huh?” She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t think it’s that weird. If you’re eighty.”
“Shut up, comic boy.” She threw her spoon at him. He laughed.
“It’s not that weird. You just don’t look like the type.”
“What—because I’m young?”
“Young and pretty.” Roy stuffed a napkin in the empty cups. “So, did you bring your knitting machine, or whatever, with you.”
“They’re needles, and yes, I brought them.” She smiled. “Would you wear a scarf if I made it?”
“It’s too hot for scarves.”