I clench my fists against my sides, terrified that I’d suddenly find myself reaching up to touch his hair.
“Have you thought of what pseudonym you’d use?”
The question catches me off guard. “I...”
“It has to be something that won’t draw attention.”
“I was thinking of using Ariana Taylor,’ I say at the same time.
Silence.
But this time, the kind that makes me feel rather defensive.
“It’s not that bad!”
“Why not add Rihanna while you’re at it?”
“Well, if I’m allowed to also add a middle name, I would love to—” I belatedly notice his gaze boring into mine, and oh.
He was being sarcastic.
“Ariana Taylor will do,” I say weakly.
A muscle twitches at the corner of his mouth. Is that...is that almost a smile? No. Impossible. The man’s face is carved from glacier ice. He doesn’t smile.
“Anything else you want to add?” he asks.
“Deceased parents, only child?”
“Too much like your real life. We’ll give you a fake sibling. Do you have any preferences?”
“I’ve always wanted a big brother, and...oh!”
“What is it?”
“I think I know where I’d like to be relocated.”
“Go on.”
“Would Chicago be possible?”
“That depends on your reason for choosing it.”
Do I tell him it’s because I love Michael Jordan, and I’ll always see him as one of the Bulls, never the Wizards?
That I used to fall asleep watching old championship games on YouTube, dreaming of a city I’d never seen?
That the idea of snow feels romantic to someone who grew up in endless California sunshine?
“It can’t be something your cousin can also figure out, if she were of the mind to look for you.”
That totally makes sense, but now I have no idea if Chicagoisa safe place to choose. Trina can be weirdly observant at times, and I have no idea if she’s aware of me being a diehard MJ fan?
“Sleep on it,” my rescuer advises quietly. “Take your time thinking this through—” The sound of his phone buzzing cuts him off, and his expression noticeably turns grim at whatever he’s reading.
And when he looks my way, my heart just drops.
“What is it?” I whisper.
