“Twenty questions?” I ask, taking another swig from my beer, nerves bubbling in my gut.

He chuckles. “Okay, you first.”

“What were you like as a child?”

“Happy. Adventurous. I loved to play in the mud, but I also really enjoyed playing Barbies with Molly. I loved to fix things with my dad—cars, stuff around the house, anything. I also wanted to be the next Kurt Cobain, you know, minus the death.”

“No shit? Do you sing?”

“Not well.” He laughs. “I mean, you’ve heard me sing in the car. Okay, my turn. Has teaching always been your goal?”

“No, not really. I’ve always enjoyed writing. I’ve written short stories and poems for as long as I can remember, writing my thoughts down in journals, stuff like that. It wasn’t until my junior year of high school where I considered teaching. I had an English teacher, Mr. Franklin, who helped so many kids. It was a struggling class, to say the least. There were only a few of us who were doing well, and he worked so hard, and turned almost the entire class around. Almost the entire class ended up passing with an A. I don’t know… I just want to make a difference in people’s lives like that. Show them they can do it, despite what they think.”

“If anyone could do it, Cash, it’d be you. You’re a natural.”

His compliment, no matter how many times I’ve heard it from him, warms my cheeks and makes my heart thump harder behind my ribcage. His praise and approval do things to me—embarrassing, childhood crush things—like a hit of dopamine every single time. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispers, his face right beside my ear, sending chills throughout my body. “You’re up.”

There’s one question I’m so curious about, for whatever reason, but I don’t know how he’ll take it. “What were your parents like?”

I glance back at him. He’s got this pure, genuine smile on his face as he gazes into the dark field, remembering them. “They were… the best. Everyone probably says that about their folks, but I mean it. They were strict on Molly and me, but it came from a place of caring. They were so in love with one another, anyone even in the same room as them could tell. Their love is the type people write epic songs about or what the movies and books are made of. Their love is what I always wanted to have. My mother was a stay-at-home mom. She loved baking with us, teaching us how to cook, showing us how to take care of a garden, and grow your own vegetables.