“You’re ridiculous,” I said, eying him over the rim of my teacup.
“I know,” he said with a laugh.
Tonight I was getting to see a different side of Dylan. He was fun and playful, his posture relaxed and I was really beginning to believe that the news of Sienna’s engagement hadn’t rocked his world or crushed his heart.
“Are you a masochist?” I dipped a piece of shrimp tempura roll in my bowl of soy sauce and popped it into my mouth. Mmm, so good.
“I like the head rush.”
“You’re weird,” I said around a mouthful of sushi, my chopsticks already reaching for a piece of salmon nigiri from the sushi platter we were sharing. That’s how greedy I was.
“So are you.”
“Thank you,” I said, accepting it as the compliment it was intended to be. “Were you a glue sniffer when you were a kid?”
“Nah.” He gave me a crooked grin with those pouty lips of his, the grin so boyish and adorable it was disarming. “Whip-its was where it was at.”
“Never tried it.”
He stabbed his chopsticks into the last piece of miso blackened cod, beating me to it. My jaw dropped, my chopsticks poised above the now-empty blue glazed dish, and he laughed at the look on my face when he popped it into his mouth. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Ha. Well, he’d never be accused of being a gentleman. I settled for the gyoza instead. Not like I was going to go hungry. Dylan had ordered enough food for six, not two. “When did your whip-it addiction start?” I asked, taking a sip of my tea while I surveyed the options in front of me. Seared tuna or another gyoza?
“When I was about eight or nine, we lived in this old lady’s house in Savannah. Dot. She kept whipped cream in the fridge for her ice cream sundaes. I loved that shit. Best day ever when I figured out that if you suck on the nuzzle, it gives you a high. Poor Dot. Made her crazy thinking she ran out of it again or forgot to buy it. I used to steal it and hide it in my room as soon as she bought a new one.”
I laughed. “A thief and a druggie at eight.”
“Started young.”
I decided that I’d eaten enough and if I had another bite, I’d explode so I poured myself another cup of tea from the ceramic pot on the table. “How many places have you lived?”
He set down his chopsticks and leaned back in his seat, taking a swig of his beer. “Too many to count.”
“Why did you move so much?” I asked, curious to know more about his childhood. More about him and where he came from and what his life was like.
He shrugged one shoulder, his gaze roaming the small, minimalist sushi restaurant. We were in one of the wood booths across from a long sushi bar where the chefs served customers seated at the bar. “My mom was always looking for something better.”
“What did she do for a living?” I asked, wondering if their frequent moves were work-related.
“She bartended. Among other things.”
I waited to hear what ‘other things’ meant but he was done talking.
“You done?” he asked while simultaneously motioning for the check. Our waiter was so efficient he was at our booth, check in hand, within seconds.
I still had a cup of tea to drink and food to digest. Meanwhile, Dylan was already handing the waiter his credit card.
God. This guy. As soon as he divulged a tiny bit about himself or his past, he shut me down.
* * *
“Don’t shake it. Cover the nozzle with your mouth and inhale.”
“Am I doing it right?”
“Take it in deeper. Wrap your lips around it.”
I smacked his arm, laughing. “Enough with the double entendre.”