Page 11 of No Way Home
Gotta go. Destiny calls.
“Never fear, 167. I shall be your tour guide.” She grabbed my hand, pulling me behind her. This girl had no idea what she was doing to me—her laugh, her legs, her touch. She dropped my hand too quickly. But she stepped closer, matching my stride. “Tell me something about yourself. You’ve been skillfully dodging any and all personal questions.”
“That’s because you’re so interesting. I can’t believe you speak German and French fluently.” I put my hands in a prayer pose, trying to get as much time with her as I could before she figured out my last name. “Say something in French.”
She gave me a sideways glance. “What language did you learn in high school?”
“Spanish? But don’t ask me to say anything other than dónde está el baño?”
That won me a laugh. “Hmm. Okay, then.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Si c'est ça que ressent la serendipité, alors je suis croyante.”
My head gave a little shake. I’d thought she was sexy before, but hearing her speak French made sexy feel like an understatement. “I caught serendipity. Right?”
“Yes.” She smiled but she seemed nervous to admit anything more.
“Tell me the rest?” I winked.
She blinked a couple of times like her brain was buffering. “Does your mom always give you what you want?”
“U-uh,” I stammered. “Definitely not. Why?
“Because with those eyes and that face, I would.” Shewinced. “In a purely innocent way.” She narrowed her eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Didn’t even go there.” I laughed. “My dad and my brother have the same eyes, so my mom’s immune to them.”
“Doubtful.” When she glanced ahead, her expression brightened. “Oh, we’re here.”
A curved wall of marble about fifteen feet long was waiting for us.
“The Whispering Wall was built in the ’30s, courtesy of Roosevelt’s New Deal,” she said in a tour guide voice. “Wild acoustics. You’ll see. You go to the other side—” she pointed “—and we’ll unravel each other’s deepest darkest secrets.”
She shooed me like I was hers to command—and I went, grinning like an idiot. I didn’t usually like girls bossing me around. But I didn’t mind with her.
“Have a seat, Gray Eyes,” she said from the far end of the stone bench. “Tell me something juicy. Something that makes you want to squirm as you say it.” She propped her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands, batting her lashes while she waited.
Man, she was gorgeous. The effortless kind. Her personality was so stunning that she glowed from the inside out.
I turned to face her and tipped my mouth toward the wall. “This is called a parabolic arc,” I whispered.
“Pfft,” she whispered back. “That is not a secret.”
“So you’re saying you already knew that?”
“I’m the tour guide, aren’t I? Now stop trying to get out of the task at hand.” She tapped her finger against the bench, eyes wide, censuring me. It was so cute. “Tell me something that might be a touch scandalous.” She pointed at me. “But keep it clean. PG rated.”
“ScandalousandPG-rated?” I asked, thinking. Ten seconds later, I admitted, “I got nothing.”
She shook her head. “Are you always this closed off?”
“Yes.” I laughed.
Butshe didn’t. A shadow of disappointment crossed her face. “What are you afraid of? That I won’t like you once I get to know you?”
“No.” I exhaled slowly. “I’m afraid you will, for the wrong reasons.”
“Oh,” she said so quietly the wall almost didn’t pick it up. I could see her trying to figure out what that meant. “Well, ask me something then. I’ll tell you whatever you want.” She wagged her finger. “Except for my name.”
“All right.” I rubbed my hands over my thighs. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but you’d never have the guts to actually go through with it?”
