Picture This by Jayne Denker Page A

drop her off. Was he planning to catch up with her whenever she returned to the city, even though she didn’t even know how long it would be till she got back? She thought he’d be an out of sight, out of mind type, and all this intense interest in her would wear off while she was in Marsden.
    â€œYeah. I still want to get to know you.”
    â€œDo it now, then, but make it fast. I think we’ve got nineteen miles left.”
    â€œOh, I doubt that can be done in nineteen miles.” He rubbed an open hand on the knee of his jeans. “Okay. Um, tell me some stuff I normally wouldn’t know about you.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œI don’t know—anything.”
    â€œOkay.” And suddenly she was at a loss for something to share. “My favorite color is yellow?”
    â€œThat’s lame! Not to mention you don’t even sound sure. Try again.”
    â€œI don’t like the taste of mint?”
    He boggled at her for a second. “. . . Seriously?”
    â€œHey, it makes it really hard to find toothpaste and I have to avoid mojitos. But at least I’m not addicted to those Thin Mint crack cookies.”
    â€œThat’s not what I meant!”
    â€œWell, what then? My secrets?”
    He grinned slyly at her. “Now we’re talking. Yeah, your secrets. The more sordid the better.”
    â€œAnd what makes you think I’d tell you all my secrets?”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œThat’s not a good enough reason.”
    â€œOh, a tough nut to crack, eh? All right. How about this—we’ll trade off. You tell me one of your secrets, and I’ll tell you one of mine. Go.”
    â€œI haven’t agreed to this yet.”
    â€œCome on, we’ve only got seventeen miles to go now.”
    She sighed. “You give me one. As an example.”
    â€œFine. I don’t like hot dogs.”
    â€œCommie. And that’s not a good secret either.”
    â€œIt is too. All those commercials I did for Weiner Weiner? I was fake chewing. Wanted to barf at just the smell. Your turn. And it had better be good.”
    Celia tucked her hands under her thighs and jiggled her legs as she thought. “Um . . . okay. I . . . I shoplifted.”
    â€œNow, that’s a good secret. Details, please. But only the essentials, so we have enough time for more sordid ones.”
    â€œI was five. I stole a toy from Marsden Mercantile—that’s the town’s grocery store—while my mom was shopping. I don’t even know why. I didn’t even like the thing—it was a plastic parachute guy. You know, the kind with the strings that always get tangled?” The more of the memory Celia recounted, the more knotted her stomach felt, like she was going to get in trouble, never mind that it had happened decades before. “I remember making up some excuse, thinking it was okay to take it because it was on the wrong shelf or something. I didn’t get caught, but when my mom saw me with it later, she asked where it came from. I lied and told her a neighbor kid gave it to me. I felt so guilty I never played with it.”
    â€œNot bad.”
    When Celia saw the grin Niall tossed her way, she felt a little lighter. “Now you.”
    â€œOkay . . . I was on pretty strong antidepressants for about a year.”
    â€œWow.”
    â€œIt was a bad idea. For me, I mean. I know those meds are great for people who really need them, but I just ended up sleeping all the time. It turned out I didn’t need them long term, so after a while my doctor weaned me off them. Your turn.”
    How could she compete with something like that? Anything she said would sound childish by comparison. She decided to go for shock value. “When I was eleven, I set fire to my entire wardrobe.”
    â€œYou’re a pyro? Sweet!”
    â€œIt was just the one time. I was going through this rebellious phase where I didn’t want to be the