He put the truck into park. His trailer was still attached, towing the lawnmower behind. We got out and walked up to the food truck. “We’ll sneak up on them,” he said. And he was right. It took the lady behind the counter a second to see us.

She offered samples, he tried the Watermelon and Blue Rasberry. I tried Blue Rasberry and Lemon. We each got a cup of the Italian Ice. It was brightly colored and had a very vibrant taste. We made our combos and walked back to his vehicle. We sat there and ate. He took a video of me without me knowing, and sent it to his family group chat.

The sun was in my eyes, but not in his. I was sitting on my legs with my boots tucked, so it wouldn’t bother me. He reached over and flicked down the visor anyways.

When we laughed, both of our mouths were tinged deep blue from the highly dyed sweets. I complained that I forgot my toothbrush. He thought I was crazy for even wanting to bring one. He brought me into a store, I picked out a dress I’d been eyeing to wear to church with him.

I paid for it, but he tried to.

Walking through the parking lot, watching his hand swing by his side. Why do boys walk into oncoming traffic like it’s not scary? Do they expect the person to stop every time? I gave him a fussy look and waved at the driver politely. He rushed to my side door with a grin and opened it for me.

I almost poked my tongue out at him. Then remembered it was blue. He got in and wanted to know what we could do next. I didn’t want to go home, so we took nearly a thirty minute drive into the country, winding down tiny roads and thumping across narrow bridges.

He’s gotten comfortable with me now. His hands barely shake until he thinks about holding my hand or kissing me. I looked at his fist, curled around the wheel. The way his hair hung, and the way his dark sunshades were positioned. He was laid back, seat as far back as it could go. His legs were cramped and bent awkwardly in the white Ford. He leaned over the wheel as he rounded the tight corners.

The black dash was dusty, coated with about an inch of freshly cut grass. Behind us, his yellow lawnmower jumped on the trailer, thumping down the poorly paved roads. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he said in the parking lot while I was scooping a spoonful of the smooth flavored ice.

“I have to ask you a question. I mean, you probably knew it was coming,” he said.

“Uh-oh,” I turn away. “What is it?”

“What are we? I mean… I told my friend I took you out on a date, so he assumed you were my girlfriend. And I told him no- I didn’t know. Your uncle called me your boyfriend. My brother’s girlfriend said you were totally interested, and my other brother said you were my ‘lady friend’. So what do you say we are?”

I peer from my window. “Funny. Me and my family just finished talking about that. I had to ask you today, before Sunday- when I meet your family for that dinner.”

“Okay, and what did you say we were?”

“I’m not going to friend-zone you. But ‘boyfriend’ is a fast title.”

“You still didn’t answer me,” he smiles shyly and ducks his head. “You won’t. Will you?”

I turn away from my window, mismatched eyes wide. Distracted and dumbfounded I ask, “Answer what?”

“It’s just going to take me asking. Isn’t it?”

I look into my lap and nod slowly. “Yeah.” I smile. I don’t know why.

He clears his throat and slowly brings out my name. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

I breathe in and look him in the eye for the first time that day. I say his name and release the breath. Nodding, “I will be your girlfriend.”

“Okay.”

…And that was just the first ten minutes.