“I’ll bet,” I say, grinning. “Well, I’m expecting full honesty here.”
“Of course,” he says, crossing his heart.
“My favorite movie?”
“American Pie.” I narrow my eyes. “Kidding.The Silence of the Lambs.You totally had an Anthony Hopkins poster on your wall at some point in your life, didn’t you?”
I didn’t, though he got incredibly close. I must have watchedThe Silence of the Lambsa million times. What exactly about me screams Hannibal Lecter? Does he know I distractedly noticed all the places we’ve walked through where either of us could have murdered the other and stashed their body with no witnesses?
Not that I wouldever.
But seven.
“I’d expect you to be better at a game you suggested,” I say.
“Bet you I’ll guess your favorite ice cream flavor.”
“Like you’re obviously a pistachio guy?”
He juts his chin forward, towering above me a good ten inches. “You wish, mint chip girl.”
My laugh is cut short as the back of my shoe digs into my ankle for the millionth time tonight. When I put these on, it was under threat—and most important, after I was promised I wouldn’t have to walk anywhere.
“I’ll never understand how people manage those torture devices,” he says with a frown before bending down and pulling his shoes off.
“What are you—”
“Despite your cruel judgment of my taste, I am, at heart, a gentleman.” He extends his hand toward my ankle, staring up through his mask and the usual rogue curls. “May I?”
When I nod, he slides off one of my shoes, leaving my foot throbbing in grateful relief as I balance myself with a hand on his shoulder.
His broad, strong shoulder.
He slips his shoe onto my foot, then does the same with the other, leaving me in his slightly oversize oxfords, while he holds my strappy heels like they’re fragile glass slippers.
“What about you?” I ask, gesturing to the blue socks on his feet.
“I’ll put my socks to good use.” He looks around like he’s just realized he has no idea where we are. We’re surrounded by a dark electronics store, a closed shoe-repair shop, and a tiny bookstore with all the lights off. “And anyway, we’re here.”
“Here?” There’s nothing here.
“Uh… huh,” he says, eyes suddenly lighting up as he spots something behind me. “There. That’s where we’re going.”
I turn around to see a blinking LED sign, its purple neon letters screaming “Psychic” under a set of worn velvet curtains. “Oh my God…”
“I don’t need to remind you of our deal.”
He does not. We get to choose one activity each, and it’s his turn.
“Nor that this won’t cost more than twenty bucks.”
Which means I’m stuck with him for another round of this. Though I expect the same sense of inconvenience I felt earlier tonight, there’s a warm eagerness in my stomach. I guess tonight isn’t going as badly as I’d pictured.
“Okay. Let’s go waste your money.”
He clicks his tongue. “It’sourmoney, actually.”
I walk, thankful that though his feet are bigger than mine, I can still walk in his shoes without tripping over my own feet, and enter the shop.
