Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 102683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”
“I don’t?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Ashley continues watching me, and I can see that he’s weighing his options as if I can suddenly read his mind. If he’s completely honest, he might turn me off. If he says nothing at all, I’m going to continue wanting an answer.
There is no winning this one, and he knows it.
“You want to play yes and no?” I ask him.
“Sure.”
“You have no idea what that is, do you?” My laugh is playful as I keep drinking wine.
“No.”
“I ask a question and you just answer yes or no until I discover what’s on your mind.”
That shuts him up.
“Do you still want to play?”
A nod. “Yes.”
“Okay.” Good. “Hmmm.” I twiddle my thumbs. “Are you thinking that you’re wondering where the server is so we can finally order dinner?”
They’ve brought us a basket of bread with a plate of olive oil and vinegar but haven’t asked what we’d like for supper.
“No.”
“Do your thoughts have anything to do with food at all?”
“No.”
“Interesting.” If I was in a swiveling chair, I’d be going in slow, methodical circles, like an evil villain in a movie. “Very interesting.”
Ashley rolls his eyes.
“So you’re not thinking about food.” Tap-tap go my fingers on the tabletop. “Are you thinking about school?”
“No.”
“The house? Did you leave anything on before we left?”
“No.”
“Are you thinking about rugby or any of the players on your team?”
His grin is slow coming and mischievous. “No.”
So ‘no’ to food, school, his teammates, rugby, the house…
Which just leaves.
Me.
“Do your thoughts have anything to do with this trip?”
I sense the hesitation as he says, “Yes.”
Now I remember why I love this game so much; it’s an innocent way to find out what’s on someone’s mind without them having to divulge it all at once with an uncomfortable confession.
I try to remain cool. “Are you happy with the hotel room?”
“Yes.”
“Does it bother you that there is only one bed?”
He smirks. “No.”
My stomach flips.
“Did it bother you when I told the server we aren’t a couple?”
Ironically, the server chooses that exact moment to make an appearance, sidling up to the table with her tablet to take our order.
Steak, medium. Mushrooms.
Baked potato.
Yes, we’d love an appetizer. Yes, I’ll also have soup.
I don’t have to eat it all and obviously I’m going to want dessert—I’m on vacation after all, one I don’t have to pay for, and I intend to live it up.
Cautiously, I weigh the wisdom of my next few questions, knowing full well I could spoil the mood completely by asking them, more than I’ve already done tonight.
They’re too direct and too honest, but at least I’ll know.
“Were you quiet before because you were thinking about me?”
A pause as his beer glass freezes halfway to his lips. “Yes.”
I won’t lie to myself and pretend I didn’t already know that—I knew what he was going to say before the question left my mouth, but somehow hearing him admit it does something to my insides.
My pulse quickens.
“Do you…” I swallow nervously. Lick the wine from my lips. “Want to pretend for the weekend that I’m not just your friend?”
The longest, most silent hesitation I have ever had the misfortune to hear.
“Yes.”
Oh god.
“Do you…” I gulp, going for my wine glass. “Do you want to pretend for the weekend that I’m not your roommate?”
Ashley stares. Stares and stares, studying my face, eyes boring into me.
He nods slowly.
Deliberately.
I lean back, feeling buzzed.
Feeling…exuberant.
I’ve been living with this person for three weeks and I already have him figured out, already know what makes him tick. What drives him and motivates him and disgusts him.
Dishonesty. Lack of enthusiasm.
Laziness.
Ashley loves ambition and has it in spades.
He’s passionate and driven and aims to graduate on time, go back to Britain, and start working his ass off.
The only code I have not cracked is his personal life: if he wants to date, does he want to fall in love, does he want to have kids and his own family someday.
We haven’t discussed it.
“Now it’s my turn to ask you questions,” he tells me, chugging down the remaining inches of his Guinness, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, foam in the corner of his beautifully scarred mouth.
His lips are gorgeous, or maybe I’m tipsier than I thought.
Either way, they’re speaking to me and I have to focus and pay attention.
“Questions about what?”
He’s suppressing a sigh. “What you’re thinking about right now.”
“Fair enough.”
The server appears and takes our empty glasses. “Would you like me to bring you more of the same?”
We both nod and wait until she’s gone before speaking again.
“Go on.”
My roommate tilts his head. “If I hadn’t been able to come with you on this trip, would you have wanted to come?”
Whoa.
Whoa, whoa, WHOA.
He just threw down the gauntlet, didn’t he? Put it all out there for me to give him the truth and nothing but the truth with that one sentence, which doesn’t seem very telling but is.