Page 42 of Brassy Bigwig

Chloe was quiet on the ride home. She sat next to me, staring out the window with her arms and legs crossed. It’s her defensive position. It’s the same one she had earlier today in my office, and it’s the same one she had when that idiot tried to invite her to the bonfire in Greece.

It’s the same way she’s sitting in the chair in my living room when I bring her a bottle of water.

“Here, drink this.”

She looks at me almost like she wants to tell me off again, but she says nothing.

“I mean, if you want to. I’m not telling you what to do. Only suggesting.”

I take the chair next to hers.

“Then maybe you should phrase your sentence as a suggestion and not a command.”

I love her smart mouth. Even when every other word is slurred from a drunk tongue.

“Would you like some water, Chloe?”

I hold the bottle out for her to take, which she does this time. I’m relieved to see a slight smirk on her face as she takes it, too. I turn my body so I’m facing her with my arm resting along the seat back.

She’s actually here.

I was beginning to think she was merely a figment of my imagination.

“What?” she asks softly.

“I just can’t believe you’re sitting here.”

“You didn’t give me much choice,” she scoffs.

“There’s always a choice, Chloe.”

“You blur the line between choice and coercion pretty well.”

“Only when I know you need help admitting what it is you want.”

She narrows her eyes at me again, but both she and I know I’m right.

“How do you feel?” I inquire.

I really do want to know the truth. Because I’d like to talk to her, get to know her more. Have the conversation we never had in Greece before we tore into one another like starving hyenas.

“Fine.” She shrugs her shoulders.

“Are you up for talking?”

She takes a deep breath before she answers.

“I honestly don’t know if I have the mental capacity to discuss what happened this afternoon and where to go from here, Dimitrios.”

“I don’t want to talk about that either, I just meant maybe we can get to know one another a little better.”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Okay.”

She rotates in her seat so her body mirrors my own. Her elbow resting on the back of the chair and her head gently laying on her closed fist.

“I’ll go first this time. I know you struggle with easing into a conversation.” She smirks again, making light of the vicious way I began questioning her earlier today.

“That’s fair.” The corner of my mouth raises slightly. “Ask me anything. I’m an open book.”

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