Page 28 of The Weight Of Falling
The server arrives to ask if we want to order any food. We both shake our heads no.
“How long have you lived in Brown Oaks?” I ask.
“Almost three years. What about you?”
“All my life.”
A myriad of emotions I can’t read passes over his face. “I can’t imagine living in one place for so long.”
“It’s all I know,” I say with a shrug. “Where did you live before coming here?”
“All over the place,” he says vaguely. “A lot of cities.”
I tilt my head. “So this is your first time living in a small town?”
“Yup.”
“How are you finding it?”
“Like living under a microscope.”
I laugh. “It does have that feeling, doesn’t it? I guess I’m used to everyone knowing everyone else’s business. But I sometimes wonder what it would be like to live anonymously as a stranger in a big city.”
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he says after a beat of silence that feels close to comfortable.
I take another sip of my wine. “I’m curious, what do you do for fun?”
“I go on fake dates with beautiful women.”
I smile and try to hide how much I like it that he thinks I’m beautiful.
“What about you?” Joel asks.
“What about me?”
“What do you do for fun?”
It hasn’t escaped my attention that Joel hasn’t answered my question. He doesn’t seem to mind talking about his work, about camera angles, lighting setups, and clients who don’t know what they want. But the second it gets personal, he manages to casually deflect my questions.
“What do I do for fun?” I repeat, smiling sweetly. “I go on a fake date and watch my fake boyfriend dodge all personal questions.”
I’ve surprised not only myself, but Joel too, judging by the look on his face.
Immediately, I feel bad for calling him out like that. I’m not generally confrontational, but somehow he brings out a snarky side of me I didn’t even know was there.
“Wow,” he says. “You really slipped that jab in there.”
I feel the blush rising in my cheeks. “Forget I said anything.”
“Why? Was it untrue?”
I frown, thrown by his reaction. He doesn’t look defensive. He looks...impressed. It’s a response I can’t wrap my head around.
He’s still watching me, eyebrows raised, waiting for my answer.
Fine. He asked.
“No,” I say. “It wasn’t untrue.”
