“Okay, what’s this game you propose?” I say, sighing a little for emphasis even though I can’t wait to hear the rules.
“Okay, well, it’s called tit for tat,” he says, and I laugh as soon as the words leave his mouth, resulting in a disapproving glare.
“Sorry,” I say, slapping my hand over my mouth to keep my reaction in check.
“Don’t make fun of the name. It’s just what we’ve called it for years—no judging,” he says and I nod, crossing my heart while I do. “Me and Gabe used to play with Jessie and a few of our other friends in junior high and high school. It’s sort of like truth or dare—with a twist.”
I’m intrigued. I’m not sure how much I’m willing to share, but the desire of learning some of Cody’s secrets has an undeniable pull on my heart. Cody continues to explain.
“I’ll start. Here’s how it works, I share something with you, and you have to share something equal back with me. It’s fair, because the person asking has to answer their own question first, make sense?” he asks, biting at the inside of his cheek, almost worried that I’ll pass on his idea.
I think about it, and decide there isn’t much I have left to hide from Cody, and even those sheltered parts of me are ones I’m more willing to share with him than others. My only concern is the dare part of the game, but I feel pretty confident that Cody won’t lead me into anything dangerous or humiliating, so I go for it.
“I’m in,” I say, holding his stare, not wanting him to see the mess of nerves I am underneath it all.
We’re barely walking, and Cody lowers his brow before he speaks again. “I was 16 the first time I had sex,” he says, and whoooooooosh, all color is gone from my face. Holy hell! I didn’t think he would hit so far below the belt this early in the game. I’m not sure I want Cody to know this part, but I’m not chickening out this early. I turn away from him before I answer.
“I was 20,” I swallow, knowing he knows what this means, and who it was with. I clench my teeth while I think of my next move; I wasn’t expecting this to stress me out so much. There are so many things I want to know, so I decide to take a small risk since he asked such a personal question to start.
“I’ve only been in love once, and I don’t even know if it’s real,” I say, letting out a heavy sigh with my admission, and also bracing myself for Cody’s response.
“Me, too,” he says. His answer comes fast, but it’s short and powerful. I know he’s talking about the girl in the picture, the girl I’m pretty sure is Kyla—the one that left him when she thought he was broken, and he probably needed her most.
“The night you slept in my room…in my arms?” he starts, his voice giving out slightly. “That’s the happiest I’ve been since my dad died.”
The heaviness of his confession smacks me hard in the chest, and I lose my footing a little. Cody notices, and pulls me next to him, but doesn’t say anything. His focus is on our feet and the path in front of us. We’re not following the map any longer, but rather meandering around winding rows of corn, avoiding the crowded areas at all costs.
I don’t know how to answer his confession, so I say the closest thing that comes to mind. “That night was the scariest decision I’ve ever made,” I say, almost a whisper. I tell him the truth, though he doesn’t know all of the details of the turmoil that played out in my heart and head that night—or now, for that matter.
“I don’t take a lot of risks,” I say, almost ashamed of the way I’ve floated through life, letting it happen to me rather than actively participating. Every experience, the painful moments and the happy ones, playing out around me like a movie. I’m never the star, but I feel it all the same.
“I take too many,” Cody says, looking down at his feet as he comes to a complete stop. He rubs his hands over his face then tucks his thumbs inside his sleeves and crosses his arms, trying to get warm. I move a little closer out of instinct. The closer I get, the more Cody fidgets, and soon he’s staring at the sky above us.
He takes in a deep breath, and blows it out slowly, letting his lips vibrate softly, before he looks at me again. Long seconds pass, then finally, his right cheek pulls up into a tight dimple, his mouth a half-smile. “I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to since the first time we met, but I really want to kiss you now,” he says, his arms falling limp to his sides, with a tired shrug, letting it all out for me to see—his declaration a challenge, a dare, the twist to the game.