“Only four are about fucking. The rest are a mix of nonfiction related to psychology and sociology and self-help, some biographies, some historical fiction, plus a couple hundred romance and fantasy novels.”
I need to stop gaping. “Do you read them or just collect them?”
“Oh, I’ve read them all.” She frowns. “If not all, then most of them. Occasionally I’ve found a book I couldn’t get into the way I hoped I would.”
“You’ve read a thousand books.”
Her cheeks go pink. “I read fast. Always have. And Iliketo read.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“My favorite book?”
“No, your favorite kind of waffle. Yes, your favorite book.” I’m gonna read it.
“Fiction or nonfiction?”
“Either. Your very favorite of all.”
“There is zero chance I can pick a favorite book.”
“What’s the point in reading if you can’t rank one as your top?”
“Do you have a favorite rugby ball?”
“Yes.”
She laughs and settles deeper onto the bed. “Okay. Right. I asked for that.”
“When do you read?”
“Between meetings. Before bed. When I’m brushing my teeth. On the bus. Regularly when Silas gets me tickets to his matches and insists I go. I’ll hold my phone up like I’m recording the match or taking pictures and yell when everyone else does, but really, I’m reading.”
She’s not lying.
And that’s the funniest shit I’ve heard all day.
“Bink—my sister—was a bookworm when we were kids, but she didn’t like to people. You like to be around people.”
“One can both enjoy reading and be an extrovert. It happens.”
“What’s the last book you read?”
“Nora Dawn’s final book in herConfuciusseries.”
“Philosophical book?”
“No, Nora Dawn is my friend Henri’s pen name. Luca Rossi’slong-time girlfriend? Confucius is the hero in her vampire romances.”
Mental note, read Luca Rossi’s girlfriend’s romance novels.
And hope it doesn’t get weird the next time I see the dude.
Showing interest in people and what they do is good, right? Even if it involves reading a mate’s girlfriend’s romance novels?
Shit. I’m confusing myself now.
“How’d she get into that?” I ask.
