Page 16 of Known By You
I let myself enjoy her response as I navigated back onto the interstate and turned on some music, but set the volume low. “Okay, I’m ready.”
She tilted her head to look at me.
“For our game.”
“Ah.” She rustled in the bag and pulled out two things. “First, I present to you cheddar and sour cream ruffles.”
“Excellent choice. The premium chip flavor.”
“Completely incorrect, and yet I somehow knew you’d say that. And second, I have a Kit-Kat.” She waggled it between her fingers.
“Ooh, so close, but my favorite candy bar is a Caramelo.”
She laughed. “Oh, my sincerest apologies.”
I shot her a grin. “I accept and forgive you. After all, we’re just starting out here. It would be different if we’d been close friends and you still got that wrong.” I raised a brow.
“You’re telling me that Beast and Cookie and Doc all know what you like?” She set the snacks back into the bag.
“Actually, yes. But only because we’ve been deployed and bored and in circumstances like that you talk about all kinds of useless stuff.” Those details weren’t what defined a friendship, but sometimes, it was the little tidbits that piled up between the bigger moments that made you feel close to a person.
“Yeah, I get that.”
She did? I wanted more. Did she have people like that she worked with? Did Kappa Sector types even get to work with others, or were they little life rafts in a bigger sea of the intelligence community? I didn’t really know, despite the many interactions I’d had with agency folk.
She was close-lipped about work, obviously. Just like I didn’t want to rehash my glamorous upbringing, she didn’t seem to want to discuss why she was taking a months-long break from her fancy, secretive career or, evidently, anything about it.
So, Plan B.
“Okay, so now me, and then we play our second game.” I grabbed the bag with her snacks inside and plopped it in her lap. “Open ’er up.”
She reached in and pulled out a can of Pringles and abag of Nerd clusters. She stared at them for a minute, then slowly turned to me. “Okay, how.”
I shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
“No. Really. How did you do that?”
I grinned over at her for a second, noting the disgruntled gaze, then forced my eyes back to the road. “Honestly, it’s a gift. I think about what I know about the person and try to find something that matches their personality.”
She scoffed, but it sounded a little like a laugh. “So my personality is like Pringles?”
“Well, a bit. You’re salty.” I glanced over again and she had a brow raised. “But once you try one, you can’t stop. And the same with you, once you get a little, uh… well, taste, for lack of a better term, you can’t, uh, stop.”
A small flush rose to my cheeks because all the salty and tasty insinuations about consuming felt a little sensual in a way I hadn’t planned. “My point is, it’s not a bad thing.”
“And these?” She held up the bright pink bag showing gummies coated in crunchy purple and pink Nerds.
“Well, those are complex—crunchy and a little sour on the outside, but sweet and, uh, a little squishy on the inside.”
I narrowed my eyes like it would help me keep a straight face, but miraculously, she burst out laughing before I did.
“Oh, thank goodness, I was about to lose it,” I said, laughing along with her. “I’m sorry. It got weird.”
She nodded, wiping her eyes at the corners. “It really did.”
We both settled down after a few more seconds, and then I could feel her small smile, even though I didn’t let myself look.
“I am impressed, though. They’re two of my favorites.”
