Every time you look at me that way, I melt. (Rascal Flatts)

I melted. I've never melted before. The closest I've come to melting has been of shear heat. It's never been about a boy. He knew my name and I was dumbfounded. I think I even stood there a while with my mouth ajar like a slack-jawed hillbilly. I don't like to admit it but I think I stood there as just watched him climb into his 1971 Jeep Renegade.

I shook it off and got in the backseat of the car with a flushed complexion.

“Do you want to get a bite before we go back to the house?”

“Sure.”

“Where would you like to go?”

“Topanga sounds lovely,” he teased. Not in an Uncle Tony sort of way but in a frightening serious Senior sort of way. I didn't know how to react.

“How about a restaurant by the beach?”

“Sure.”

I reported to the driver and we pulled out of the parking lot. I looked back.

“It's a nice church.”

He smiled ominously.

“I haven't been going all that long but I really like it.”

He nodded like he was keeping a secret.

“I know it's not really your thing...”

“Is it yours?”

Wow, that came out of nowhere.

“I think so,” I nodded. “It is now.”

“Why? It is because of your interest in Christianity or your interest in boys by the same name?”

“What?”

He shrugged.

I was offended.

“What are you saying?”

“It was just a question.”

“Of course it's because of the spiritual aspect. There are men everywhere, why would I have to go to church to meet them?” Though technically Christian was the reason I started attending. “In fact, that was the most I've ever talked to that boy.”

We sat in silence for a couple miles.