Page 26 of The Weight Of Falling
I meet his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” he says quietly.
“Okay, then.”
I’m burning with curiosity. I want to ask why he doesn’t drink, but asking feels intrusive. The night already feels strange enough without adding rudeness to the mix, so I keep quiet and the silence swells.
“I was a waitress once,” I say to break the quiet. “I lasted three whole days. I was so terrible at it they let me go. I supposefiredwould be the correct term.” I stop talking and fiddle with the delicate silver chain around my neck. “I’m sorry, I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”
His body goes rigid. “You’re nervous?”
“I am.” I swallow. “Very nervous, actually.”
“You’re nervous aroundme?” Something passes over his face. I can’t be sure, but I swear it’s almost a look of horror.
“No, not you,” I reassure him. And it’s true. Joel Adams is intimidating, but he doesn’t evoke any fear in me. “I’m nervous because it’s a date. A fake one,” I amend hastily, “but it still feels a little real.”
His expression softens. “Why would going on a date make you nervous?”
“I don’t know,” I hedge.
“You might as well tell me since we’re already past first base.”
“Joel!”
“Kenzie,” he mimics.
I sigh in defeat. “I don’t know. I guess when I’m on a date I want to make a good impression.”
Joel’s quiet for a beat, then he waves a dismissive hand. “You’re in luck then.”
“I am?”
“Yup. If that’s all you’re concerned about, you don’t have to worry because you’ve already made a terrible first impression.”
I burst out laughing. “Let me guess. The storeroom?”
“The storeroom,” he confirms.
I tap my finger to my lip. “So I can’t go lower?”
He shakes his head. “You’re rock bottom on first impressions. The only way you can go from here is up.”
I see right through what he’s doing, and a rush of warmth moves through me. I give him a small smile, a silent thank you for trying to put me at ease. He smiles back, and it transforms his face, stealing the breath right out of my lungs.
Our drinks arrive.
“Kate mentioned something about a shoot going completely sideways last week,” I say, taking a sip of my wine. “But she had to run before she could elaborate. Something about flying fruit?”
Joel nods. “That would be our Floating Fruit Disaster.”
“Please tell me that’s its official title.”
“Kate probably filed it that way. At least, emotionally.”
“Okay, now I need to know everything.”
He takes a sip of his drink, then leans back in his chair. “We were doing a high-end shoot for a commercial spot. The client wanted fruit suspended mid-air, like it was floating.”
