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"Why were dogs named dogs?" Edward asked me one hot summer day on my porch swing.
"Why is the sky blue?" I retorted with a flick to his ear. He scowled at me; so naturally, I flicked it again.
"Do you always answer a question with a question?"
I raised a brow. Rolling his eyes, he patted my bare thigh. "You think too hard," I blurted, nervous with his skin touching mine. "I mean, you're always asking questions that don't have answers."
He fidgeted with his ball cap, lowering it further. "You don't believe that," he uttered. Slightly peeved at his assumption, I vowed not to give him a strawberry Popsicle the next day.
"Cherry," he deadpanned. "I hate cherry." He gave me an accusing stare. "You know I hate cherry."
"Would you like cherry better if it were called strawberry?"
"No…," he drawled, not understanding.
"Why do cherries taste like cherries? Why do snozberries taste like – ?"
"Okay, Willy Wonka, I get your point." He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. No ball cap today; I liked it better that way. "Sorry I am oh-so annoying. Maybe I'll find another porch-swing buddy." He made a move to stand, and I grabbed his hand in effect.
"No." His sea glass eyes met mine at the word. "I'm sorry. I just hate not having all the answers." I blushed at the admission.
He gave me a crooked smile as he leaned back onto the swing – as if to say he was staying for a while. I grinned back. "I get it. It comes with your control-freak tendencies," he half-joked. "Don't worry, we'll work on it."
"Tell me how you really feel," I replied in bitter sarcasm. In retaliation, he flicked my ear. "Hey!"
"You had it coming."
"Why are there different races?"
We had spent the summer building my tolerance for the metaphysical. Inquisitive minds are great minds, he told me. The lessons were exhausting.
I sighed. "What do you mean?"
"Why can't we all just be one kind of people?"
My rational mind protested at the idea. No, I told myself. Admit defeat.
"Uh-uhm," I sputtered. I looked into those sea glass eyes and found support … mixed with a whole lot of amusement. "I don't know."
"What was that, Bella?" He cupped his ear, motioning for me to speak louder.
"I don't know!" I shouted with a flick to his extended ear. It hardly fazed him.
"I never thought this day would come." I wanted to feel aggravated by his pompous attitude, but he was just so … cute. Instead, I readied myself for the next mind-bending query.
"How do you know when you care deeply about someone? Like, might even love them?"
My heart stuttered, but then I smirked. "When the urge to kiss their ear is greater than the urge to flick it."
He returned my smirk with one of his own. "Good answer," he murmured and leaned over, giving my ear the slightest peck.