The Thing I Didn't Know I Didn't Know (Russel Middlebrook: The Futon Years Book 1) by Brent Hartinger

Author:Brent Hartinger [Hartinger, Brent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BK Books
Published: 2014-12-14T18:30:00+00:00

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Afterward, we went for a walk along the waterfront. We both knew exactly where this date was heading—you can only slurp down the insides of so many mollusks with a date as cute as Felicks before these things simply become destiny.

But I could already tell that a big part of the fun of this night was in the anticipation. Besides, we'd just eaten. So we decided to ride this giant Ferris wheel called the Seattle Great Wheel, which is located on one of the piers. It was night now, so it was lit up in neon colors, all flashing in the dark, rising up over the black, sloshing abyss of Elliott Bay.

Each glass car seats four people, two on each side. The pier was crowded, and there was a line behind us, but as we were boarding, I asked the attendant, "Do you think we could get a car to ourselves?" And she smirked and nodded. I guess it was also clear to everyone else exactly where this date was headed.

Once the door was closed, the glass car started to rise into the night sky. We were facing into the city, looking into the lights of the downtown skyscrapers, and we were surrounded by the neon in the lattice of the wheel itself—green and purple and blue and yellow. It was like rising backward into a dream, except for the fact that the roof of the pier down below us was completely covered with pigeon poop.

Felicks and I sat side by side, staring out at the colors. When our car reached the other side of the wheel, we switched seats so we could stare out at the water. A ferry was leaving for the other side of the sound, a little island of light cutting across a literal sea of darkness.

"We never talked about your job," I said. "All through dinner."

"Yours either," he said.

"Yeah, but that was sort of by design. I mean, what is there to say?"

He smiled. I'd told him about my two jobs when we'd met at Vernie's, how pathetic they are.

"Do you like it?" I said.

"I do."

"And what exactly does a publicist do?"

He thought for a second, staring down at the ferry. Green neon shone on his face even as he slipped me a sly grin. "It's the job of a publicist to convince someone he wants something, even if he didn't necessarily want it before."

"I see," I said, nodding. "What if he does want it? What if he wants it bad?"

"Then my job gets a whole lot easier."

I guess technically we were back to flirting. But I'd never flirted so brazenly before in my life. We might as well have been lubing each other up.

Then we were kissing, still on the seat, the green neon turning to blue then purple. He tasted minty, which made me wonder when he'd had a chance to slip in a breath mint without me looking. Or who knows? Maybe he was just so perfect that his mouth always tasted that way.

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