Page 44 of Things I Read About
“Listen, Sally, I am… I mean, hell, you’ve probably read this exact scenario in your books. I’m not a good guy. To say I have blood on my hands or ghosts in my past, that’s an understatement.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He pokes at the fire. “Doesn’t matter if you believe it.”
I gather my courage. “There’s a girl waiting for you, isn’t there? In one of your usual cities?”
“No.”
“Girls, plural?”
Neither of us looks at each other. “No.”
I scoff. “You’re telling me you don’t have friends with benefits all over the place?”
“That wasn’t what you asked, but no. No one is waiting for me.” The second sentence sounds heavy, bitter. Like maybe someone was supposed to wait and didn’t.
I open my mouth to pry, to push him about who she was, if he loved her, if he’s ever been in love. But I stop. I’m not his girlfriend, none of that is any of my business.
“Why the marines?”
He thinks for a couple beats. “Just fit. I had a lot of fight in me, and I didn’t want to let it all out in the streets of Boston.” I finally look up at him, but he stares ahead. “It kinda felt like I’d either end up in prison or in uniform. I chose the uniform.”
“Did you like it? The marines?”
“A lot of it.”
I lean closer, despite myself. “And the fight you had? Where did that come from?”
He sighs. “That’s a sad story.”
Right.
This is a fling. Flings are light, easy, uncomplicated.
I look away, taking in the little home. And I spot it, a set of shelves full of games.
Please have it, please have it.
“Okay, Nate. No sad stories. Play a game with me instead.” I stand up and move to the shelf.
“Why does that sound like a terrible idea?”
I laugh. “I don’t know, but you said you wanted all my bad ideas this week, so, here you go.” I grab the box and present it to him.
“Operation. You want to play Operation? Against me?”
I lift a shoulder, ever so casual. “I’m good with my hands.”
“Your funeral, Tinkles.”
I sit andget the game set up. “You’ve seen my magic fingers, it’s going to beyourfuneral.”
“I have disassembled a live bomb in under two minutes,” he says, grinning that amazing freaking grin at me. “But, by all means.”
So cocky. So hot.
My lips part. For many reasons.
