Page 89 of The Weight Of Falling
Sofia turns to Joel. He sits forward, elbows on his knees, thinking.
Our gazes lock. I try to beam him my list: reading, drawing, crocheting, watching movies, playing board games.
Joel doesn’t break my stare as a smile lifts his lips. I white-knuckle the armrest. That smile spells trouble. I take a nervous sip of my wine.
“You might not know this about Kenzie,” he begins, “but she’s always wanted to go bungee jumping.”
I almost spit out my wine. Wait? What?
Tess’s eyebrows climb halfway up her forehead. “Kenzie?”
“Bungee jumping?” Sofia repeats dubiously.
Joel flashes me a troublemaking grin, daring me to contradict him. “Yup. She hides it well, but there’s a daredevil spirit in there.”
I have to work to keep my expression neutral. My version of a daredevil spirit is staying up until midnight to finish a book.
“That’s interesting,” Gideon says. “Kate loves rollercoasters. The scarier, the better.”
“Maybe it’s the same secret thrill,” Joel adds, still stirring the pot.
Kate looks at me, intrigued. “This is so exciting. Want to come with me sometime?”
The no sticks in my throat. “Sure. Someday.” I’ll have to feign a stomach bug or something that day.
I hold out my hand. “I’ll have my scrunchie back, thank you very much.”
Joel shakes his head. He gives me one of his quiet smiles. A smile that cracks open a tiny window to his core and sends a shower of sparks across my skin. “Nuh-uh. I’m keeping it. A memento of tonight.”
“Final question, and it’s for the guys,” Sofia says, holding up a flashcard. “What’s in her handbag?”
There’s a collective groan from Aaron and Gideon. Sofia simply grins, marker poised.
Gideon takes a hefty gulp of his cocktail. “It’s a trick question,” he declares. “No one can answer it correctly.”
Tess looks at Aaron. “Come on, you have to know what’s in my handbag.”
“A whole lot of trouble,” he mutters.
Laughter breaks out around the room.
After Gideon and Aaron both strike out on the handbag question, Sofia points the marker at us. “Your turn.”
My eyes hesitantly find Joel’s. I’m certain we’re going to bomb this one. There’s no way he’s paid enough attention to know what’s in my bag. I’m not even sure I know what’s in my bag.
Joel doesn’t say anything right away. He leans back, arms crossed, gaze steady on the table like he’s turning the question over.
“Take a wild guess,” I tell him. “We’re already losing.”
Joel looks directly at me, affection softening his eyes.
“A mini sketchbook,” he says, his voice quiet but certain. “The spiral-bound kind. It always sticks out a little. A couple of different pens, none of which work properly because she can’t bring herself to throw them away. Tissues, because she cries easily. And that’s not a bad trait. It’s one of her most endearing qualities. Lip balm, which she applies when she’s nervous and needs something to do with her hands. At least two hair ties. And either a small sewing kit or a safety pin.”
The room goes completely silent.
I feel everyone’s attention swing between Joel and me. The silence lasts maybe ten seconds before everyone erupts and demands to see what’s actually in my handbag.
I reach in. I pull out the sketchbook. The pens. The safety pin. The lip balm.
