His observant gaze skates across the bustling carnival, but he cocks his head to me. “You hate porta-shitters?”
I smile at his name for the boxed shithole. “Yeah, I’d rather go behind a bush or dig a fucking hole than pee on someone else’s crap.”
Banks laughs. “I was planning on defending them, but you’ve got a point.” His South Philly accent comes out more than his twin brother’s.
“You really like porta potties?” I eye his height.
He hoists a shoulder in a slight shrug. “After two deployments, porta-shitters are like churches. The only place to have one moment of silence.” He plucks the toothpick from his lips. “You dig a hole and some knucklefuck is gonna come annoy you for ten minutes about a rumor they heard from another platoon.” His eyes settle on mine for a softer beat, and I almost forget about the flash photography.
Kids are snapping photos of me while they wait in line for face-painting.
Banks asks, “Did I sway you to my side and beauty of porta-shitters?”
How do you flirt well?
I wish I knew at times, but I don’t want to be someone I’m not just to get his attention.
So I sink into the casualness of our conversation. “I’m still team shithole.” Fuck, Sulli. That wasn’t cute at all—the thought is abruptly cut off by his laughter.
“Yeah?” he says between laughs. “My metaphor or analogy or whatever literary thing didn’t do it for you?”
I smile and elbow his side. “What? That a toilet is like a church?”
“It’s godly enough to be called a fucking throne.”
“The hole is my throne,” I say with an outstretched arm, knowing full well this is a sexual innuendo.
Banks bounces his head, his laugh deeper in his chest. He surveys the kiddy train-car ride and the families helping their children in the caboose. “Even if some knucklefucks come walk up and shoot the shit with you while you’re shitting?”
“Yeah, why not? I fucking hate being alone most of the time anyway.”
His brown hair is long enough to brush the back of his neck. He curls a strand behind his ear. “Isn’t swimming more solitary?”
“I had Moffy growing up. We went to swim meets together—he’s the closest thing I have to an older brother. I could’ve done any sport without him, but it wouldn’t have been the same. I think…” I scuff my boot on the dirt and stare out at the bright Thrill Drop, an adrenaline tower, in the distance. “I think that I would’ve been lonely. With how many cousins I have, I’m just used to being around people, even if I’m not that good with people.”
Everyone knows that I’m not that great with words like Jane. She’s a witty princess. I feel like the foul-mouthed voyager sailing the ocean blue, who’d reroute back home too quickly. I’d miss everyone too much, too fucking badly.
“You’re telling me,” he says huskily, “I’m twenty-nine, and I’ve never really been alone. Never lived alone. Never spent more than a day truly alone.” He catches my gaze and lifts another shoulder. “Maybe people like you and me are just meant to be in the company of a buncha knucklefucks—or we are the knucklefucks.”
I slug his arm. “Probably the latter.”
We share a smile, and our attention finds the same spot. The same person. Akara is pacing slowly near the miniature train caboose, a phone to his ear.
Business calls.
I’ve been slowly growing used to Akara’s abrupt, unexpected departure from my detail. Ever since he created his own security firm, he’s been too busy to protect me 24/7. I’m proud of him for building something big, and I don’t want to be the reason he fails.
“He looks really stressed,” I say to Banks as we watch Akara.
“Yeah,” he nods. “He’s grown an extra wrinkle overnight. Right above the third and fourth one.”
I laugh into a snort.
His lip lifts too, but our humor weakens as concern mounts.
Banks is here to protect me for these moments, when Akara has to step out, and he cares just as much about his friend.
A second passes when I realize that I’m just waiting around the fucking porta potties. For what?
Not, for what?
For whom?
My eyes flicker to Banks. “You’re not going to mention that I don’t need to wait around for my bodyguard since I have you?”
He shakes his head once. “I know what he means to you.” His gaze sweeps the area. “But you don’t have to wait around for Akara if you don’t want to.”