100 Days by Mimsy Hale

Author:Mimsy Hale
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Interlude Press
Published: 2015-04-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Day Sixty: Louisiana

“Okay,” Aiden says, setting everything down onto the blanket and sitting back. “We have beignets, we have hot cider and we have about fifteen minutes before we should start seeing them.”

“Merci beaucoup,” Jake replies, his diction barely flawed, and accepts the small cup of cider that Aiden pours for him. Jake’s eyes remain on him as he sips, tipping his head back a little to expose the long column of his neck as he swallows.

Aiden licks his lips and busies himself in transferring their warm beignets to paper plates. A pleasant fizzle of anticipation simmers beneath his skin; all day, Jake has been throwing every single trick he possesses at him, as if he’s still trying to pay him back for Arkansas.

Which was unintentional. Mostly.

“We should come back here one day for Mardi Gras,” Jake muses absently, taking a bite of his beignet and glancing at the sky. Save for a few clouds lingering in the distance, it’s a crystal clear night—perfect for watching the Leonids as they skitter through the stars.

They aren’t the only ones sitting on the roof of an RV—it seems as though almost everyone in the Pontchartrain Landing Park is out tonight. The sites are all in a line overlooking the still waters of the marina, and the other campers are gathered in couples and groups, laughing and eating and listening to music.

They arrived at the park just after sunset, bellies full of creole jambalaya and crawfish étouffée from the French Quarter. People were already on top of their vehicles, singing raucously along to the dark, sultry True Blood theme playing from someone’s car, the girls all dropping their chins to hit the low notes. Jake took it all in with a barely concealed sigh and rolled his eyes when Aiden joined in.

Then they both heard mention of a meteor shower, and suddenly every­thing made sense.

“Wow,” Aiden says after taking a sip of his own cider. The apple and spices burst fruity and sharp over his tongue, and he licks his lips so as not to waste a single drop. “Can you get the recipe for this from Toby?”

“I think it’s his mom’s recipe, but I can ask,” Jake says. “It’s pretty special, right?”

“Let’s just say, I’m glad we got extra,” Aiden murmurs. He reaches out to thumb away a few specks of powdered sugar at the corner of Jake’s mouth. Eyes lingering on Jake’s, he sucks on the tip of his thumb.

“What are you doing?” Jake asks, exhaling. He wraps both hands around his cup and links his fingers.

“Exactly what you’ve been doing all day,” Aiden replies with a grin, just as the group of girls three vehicles away starts playing the True Blood theme for the third time this hour.

“Oh my god,” Jake mutters. “Is this a thing people just do in Louisiana?”

“Good news,” Aiden says, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie and pro­ducing his phone. He offers Jake one of the earbuds. “We also have music.”

“You’re my favorite,” Jake

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