“Anything else, in the non-gaming world?”
“Nope. Not really.”
I tap my forefinger on my chin, trying to look wise. “You know what? When I was a teenager, the only thing I wanted to do was read.”
“I don’t really like reading.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” I say, swaying a little in my chair. “Now, back to me as a young woman. The only job I could have got reading was as an editor, and editing is the worst thing in life. So when I finished school, I decided, hey, if I can’t make money reading, why not be a writer instead?”
I give him a satisfied smile which he exchanges for a blank look. I’m tempted to knock on his skull and ask if anyone is home, but instead, I help him follow the thread to the end of the brilliant idea. “Maybe you could write games instead of playing them? That way you’d always have games you wanted to play.”
Colton grins and nods. “I think I’d like that.”
“Good stuff. Glad I could help.”
He glances across the room, then says, “Oh, I should catch Eunice before she leaves. They have ahugeyard.”
With that, he gets up, leaving me to feel smug at my helpfulness.
* * *
Two hours later, Liam walks me home. It’s cold out and I’m very tipsy now. We’ve just bid good night to his friend Jake, the guy who gets the bluefin tuna license.
“God, I can’t imagine fishing for tuna,” I say. “I mean the smell alone must be awful.”
He grins at me, and I see a twinkle in his eye. “There are more irritating things than a bad smell. You should try spending months renovating some nutty American lady’s house.”
“Oh, so I’m nutty now?”
“You’re taking offense to me calling you nutty?” He feigns surprise. “The real insult in that sentence was when I called you American.”
“Ouch!” I let my head snap back dramatically. “Hurtful. I thought you hosers were supposed to be so nice.”
“Nah, we just pretend so we can get tourists to come spend a few bucks here.” He looks up at the night sky. “And so no one invades us.”
“Solid plan.”
Liam tilts his head to the side. “It’s worked so far. We’ve managed to get by all these years with a minuscule defense budget just by being polite and apologizing lots.”
“Is that all there is to it? I should really take that idea straight to Washington.”
“Could be hard to pull off at this point.”
“Good point.” I nod, trying to look very serious. “We’d need an entire rebranding from superpower to nice neighbors.”
“You’ll have to just study up and become a Canadian then.”
“I just may have to. I’m assuming there are politeness exams …”
“Yup. Every Tuesday night down at the school. They teach you all twenty-six different ways to say sorry, the top fifty situations that aren’t your fault that you should apologize for, as well as phrases like, ‘you go first,’ and ‘no that’s fine, after you.’”
We both give up on pretending we’re serious at the same time and have a quiet laugh together.
A chill runs up my back from the cold air. I shiver a little, and out of the corner of my eye, I see his jacket sliding off his arm, then he turns to me and places it on my shoulders.
I pull it tightly around me and thank him, my voice taking on a ridiculously sultry tone that causes me to clear my throat. The coat smells like Liam, and I have a fleeting wish that the scent will stay on me when I climb into bed soon.
“The nights are getting colder.” He remarks as we saunter up my driveway.
