“What drew you to Flourish?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Honestly?”
He nods.
“The bonus structure.”
“Seriously? Not the mission statement, or the products?”
“The snack bar is a close second.”
“I’ll be sure to let the board know,” he says, his laughter melting into comfortable silence.
There it is, a little piece of reality sneaking in. Refusing to let it drag us down, I move our line of questioning.
“Why did Paul call you Go-go?”
He smiles. “Noah Go-go Graves. I’ve been obsessed with cars since I was a little kid. Every birthday from four to twelve was NASCAR themed.”
My chest aches. This detail, along with the others, threatens to transform him from this forbidden enigma into a real person—someone I consider more than an acquaintance, someone with the power to cause ripples in my life. But I can’t stop. I have to know more.
He thinks for a moment before speaking again.
“Late nights or early mornings?”
“Late nights.”
Another beat of silence.
“What do you miss most about L.A.?”
“You mean aside from the sunshine ninety percent of the year?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. We get it, you like your vitamin d.”
“I miss my mom. And a few of my friends. Not most of them, but some.”
“Megan?”
I’m not sure why I asked, especially given my own reluctance to discuss exes, and the surprise on Noah’s face makes me want to take it back. Somehow, despite already discussing family dramas, this is more personal—like crossing another sort of boundary. But before I can backtrack, or explain, his recognition flickers.
“Ah, yes your Google search. Well. I suppose I opened this can. No. Megan is not one of the people I miss. But, she was a big part of my life before I moved.”
“You dated.”
“Something like it.”
I frown at his half answer and he takes a deep breath.
“We dated. But it was . . . hollow. She wanted the social connections I could offer. And I . . .”
“Have a thing for blondes?”
He smirks and tosses some of my hair over my shoulder, the action stealing the breath from my lungs. “No. I’ve always preferred brunettes.”
Unwilling to let the tension build here, I scoff. “Don’t tell me she was too kinky for you. Because if that’s the case, I think I’d like to meet her.”
Noah’s head falls back, a deep laugh cracking out of his chest. His joy pulls a chuckle from me too, and for one or two blissful moments, there is nothing but rounds of giggles filling the air around us. The bartender eyes us warily from where she’s perched and shakes her head. When we fall back into silence, I figure we are past the question, and wait for his next volley.
