“That sounds fair.”
She looked like she was trying not to laugh when I glanced up.
“Thanks.”
“Can I have a favor in return?” she asked.
“Sure.” It was my turn to be curious. What would she want from me?
“Tell me one of your theories.”
Whoops. “No way.”
“You promised me a favor.”
“And you’ve broken promises before,” I reminded her.
“Just one theory—I won’t laugh.”
“Yes, you will.” I had no doubt about that.
She looked down, then glanced up at me through her thick lashes, her long gold eyes scorching underneath.
“Please?” she breathed, leaning toward me. Without permission, my body leaned closer to her, like she was a magnet and I was a paper clip, till her face was less than a foot from mine. My mind went totally blank.
I shook my head, trying to clear it, and forced myself to sit back. “Um . . . what?”
“One little theory,” she purred. “Please?”
“Well, er, bitten by a radioactive spider?” Was she a hypnotist, too? Or was I just a hopeless pushover?
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not very creative.”
“Sorry, that’s all I’ve got.”
“You’re not even close.”
“No spiders?”
“No spiders.”
“No radioactivity?”
“None at all.”
“Huh,” I mumbled.
She chuckled. “Kryptonite doesn’t bother me, either.”
“You’re not supposed to laugh, remember?”
She pressed her lips together, but her shoulders shook from holding the laughter back.
“I’ll figure it out eventually,” I muttered.
Her humor vanished like a switch flipped off. “I wish you wouldn’t try.”
“How can I not wonder? I mean . . . you’re impossible.” I didn’t say it like a criticism, just a statement.You are not possible. You are more than what is possible.