Faster We Burn

with food poisoning, lions and droughts. Hearing them talk about it made me ache, and after a few minutes, I just wanted them to shut up. They were just so…goddamn happy. Kayla was glowing with it, like a firefly. I’d been so happy to see her, but we’d barely had a chance to talk about anything because everyone was so eager to hear about the engagement plans and all that. I just wanted a chance to talk to her, just us, away from everyone else.
    But I was trapped at the table with them, Stryker on my right and Grampa Jack on my left. My parents ended up having to bring in another table to fit everyone, including my Aunt Carol, Uncle Clay, their kids Jackson, Ruthie and Andy, my Uncle Ray, Aunt Linda and their kids Bailey and Brandon, our neighbors Poppy, and Ron and their daughter Rosalee.
    The dinner was a flurry of passing plates and the salt and everyone trying to cram their plates full. I took a huge helping of Stryker’s baked cheese thing, which turned out to be mind-blowingly good. I would have licked my plate if I was alone.
    Mom was busy with Kayla and Adam, so I chatted with Grampa Jack and Stryker. The latter kept touching my feet with his under the table and shooting me little smiles every now and then. I wished he would be less obvious, but he didn’t seem to see the glares I was shooting him back and he ignored it when I kicked him under the table.
    Finally, everyone had stuffed themselves and Mom brought out the pies.
    “You still have room?” Stryker said, raising his pierced eyebrow. “Where’s it gonna go?” Jesus, I wasn’t that skinny. I’d definitely been smaller in high school, but that was because all my stupid friends were skinny bitches and I didn’t want to be their one fat friend.
    “Oh, I can put away some pie. You just watch.”
    He leaned toward me, brushing some hair off my shoulder. “Is that a challenge I hear in your voice? Because I bet you can’t finish an entire slice of pie. With ice cream.”
    “What do I get if I win?” I said, turning in my chair.
    “How about I take you to dinner?”
    Oh, I’d make that worth my while. “Deal.”
    “What do I get if I win?” he said, running his finger down my arm. I hoped no one was looking.
    “What do you want?”
    His smile was slow and sexy. “I want you to sing a song with me at the next Band meeting.”
    I could agree to that because it wasn’t going to happen. There was no way I’d lose. “Deal.”
    Mom passed the pie around the table and finally got to me.
    “Apple, pumpkin or cherry?” she said.
    “Apple.”
    “Ice cream?” she paused, the scoop in the tub of ice cream.
    I looked right at Stryker. “Yup.”
    The plate was passed down to me and then it was Stryker’s turn.
    “Cherry, please. With ice cream.” I handed his plate to him and we clinked our forks together. Everyone else was attempting their own slices of pie, including Kayla and Adam who seemed to be having a similar contest.
    My baby cousin, Andy, started to wail, so Aunt Carol went change him as the other kids had an impromptu pie-eating contest while their parents weren’t looking, ending up with most of the pie on their faces and not in their mouths.
    “So. Where are you taking me?” I said when I held up my clean plate a few minutes later. “It better be somewhere nice.”
    “We’ll see, sweetheart.”
    “Shh,” I said, looking around to make sure no one had overheard. Grampa Jack was snoozing in his chair, his pie only half-eaten and everyone else was focused on something else. “Let’s keep that on the down low, okay?”
    “Sure thing.” We got up from the table and he grabbed my plates and his and took them to the sink.
    “Katie, can I talk to you for a minute?” Mom had finally let Kayla off the hook, and she escaped to the living room with Adam, probably to cuddle and whisper adorable nothings in each other’s ears. I’d never seen my sister so…disgustingly in love.
    “Yeah, sure.” I gave Stryker a look and he went to the living room to chat with them. Mom steered me down the hallway toward her bedroom. She made sure that no one followed us and then turned on me. Her face went from happy hostess to pissed-off mom in about half a second. Like flipping a switch.
    “What is wrong with you?” she said, putting her hands on her hips. She had a smear of what looked like cherry pie on the front of her shirt. She’d have a hissy fit when she found out.
    “What are you talking about?” I had some idea, but