Page 47 of On Merit Alone
But that was just my impulses talking. Instead of giving into them, I smiled at her, lowering my voice to match hers. “And why are we whispering this time?”
“Because I look like an idiot,” she groaned. “I leave these prescription sunglasses in the car as a backup, but I broke my other pair for the car and haven’t gotten around to replacing them yet.”
“Why?”
Something weird crossed her face fast before she tucked it away. “I need to go back for a checkup before I can order new ones, but I haven’t had the time.”
Okay. There was something strange about the way she said that–the way she was suddenly looking anywhere but at me, but I decided to table that for later.
“So you’re blind, huh?”
“As a bat.”
Reaching forward, I gently stole her sunglasses. She let me. “Can you see me now?”
Squinting, she shook her head and leaned forward a little more. At this distance, we were officially sharing air. I suddenly realized the air I’d been breathing for thirty-four years of life wasn't enough. Whatever she was adding was like a drug—the kind they give you at the dentist that made you heady and happy.
Oblivious to the fact, she opened her eyes wide and looked up at me seriously. “About here. I have to be this close.”
I nodded. Then I removed her glasses the rest of the way. “No sunnies, then. Got it.”
“Ira—”
“Don’t argue with me, Six. You have a terrible track record at winning those.”
Silence. I could tell she was thinking about arguing, carefully weighing the pros and cons of debating with me. Thinking better of it, she just inclined her chin and met my gaze. “What do you want?”
“Do you have siblings, or are you an only child?” I asked.
She blinked. “What?”
My fingers twitched toward the window again, and she reached forward to stop me. I had to lean back so we wouldn’t connect. “Just answer.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with literally anything, Ira,” she said, her voice getting a little breathy and a little panicked.
I softened my tone, not wanting to push too hard. “I want to understand you, Merit. You’re so sensitive about some things and unbothered by others. It’s never what I expect from you. So this is me trying to get some perspective.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re friends.”
“We are not?—”
“You think I let just anybody climb all over me?” I asked, looking pointedly at our positioning. She followed my gaze, then abruptly returned herself to her own seat. I stifled my laughter. “See? Friends. Now answer the question, Mer. It’s simple. Here, if it’s easier, I’ll go first. I’m not an only child. I have a brother and a sister. I’m the baby.”
She puffed out a laugh. “That actually explains a lot.”
“Right!” I laughed. “Now you go.”
She didn’t bother looking at me. I still had her glasses, she apparently couldn’t see much of me anyway. “You probably guessed, but I’m an only child. Just me.”
I did guess, but now I wanted to know why she sounded so sad about it. Unfortunately, though I could be a pushy asshole at times, I could read a room. Now didn’t seem like the right time to ask.
Reaching between us, I returned her glasses. “I did guess. You’re especially offended by simple teasing, so you make it kind of obvious.”
“Ha! Well, you’re especially bad at taking no for an answer,” she grumbled, crossing her arms.
“Also true,” I said, leaning on the center console. “Which brings me to why I’m here today.”
