“You don’t need to talk if it’s too much for you,” I reassure him. “I like spending time with you too. Whether you talk or not, it’s fun.” Because as much as I want to push him to talkmore, I don’t want him to be uncomfortable.
It’s the wrong thing to say, though, because Ziggy scowls at me.
“I’m sorry,” I quickly add, shifting closer. “Don’t get grumpy with me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.” But after that reaction, and the way he got cranky with me for not letting him try the swing first, plus how he acted when I spoke for him with Lynx …
“Should try being me.” His lips twitch, and it takes me a second.
“Wait. That was a joke.”
He stares at me.
“You just made ajoke.”
Ziggy’s trying to look annoyed with me, but there’s amusement in his big, brown eyes. His hair has dried the way I fixed it, and I’m able to make out all of his features for once. The little nose, his expressive eyes, those deep red lips that hold so many secrets. His piercings somehow enhance all of his best features as well. The piercings at the end of each eyebrow, with a bar through the top of his nose, draw my attention to his eyes. The two under his bottom lip and the septum piercing all frame out his lips. I’ve always known Ziggy was cute, but after seeing that long, lean body, his perky butt, and the way he’s watching me now … attraction kicks up in my gut.
Attraction that I absolutely will not be acting on.
“Do you want to keep talking?” I ask, voice lower than normal.
He’s about to nod when he catches himself. “Yes.”
Happiness floods me. He doesn’t give me more than that, and I figure I’ll have to be the one to lead the conversation, but I don’t have an issue with that.
“How old are you?” I ask, starting easy. If this is my chance to get to know him, I’m going to get as many of the important, quick things out of the way as I can. When he doesn’t answer, I’m about to fill in the silence on impulse, but then I remember him covering my mouth, like he was asking for time. So I swallow the words and give it to him.
“Twenty-eight.”
I probably could have guessed that, now that I can actually see his face. “I’m thirty. I think I look way older than you though.”
He studies me for a second. “You have happy lines.” Every word sounds like it’s costing him energy, and the way he pauses after he speaks to check my reaction has curiosity at what he’s looking for gnawing at me. He reaches for me, and his thumb brushes softly beside my eye. “Here.”
Goose bumps chase each other over my skin, spreading outward from his touch. “Did you call me wrinkly? Howdareyou.”
He snatches his hand back, like he thinks I’m being serious.
“I’m joking, Ziggy.”
The tension leaves his shoulders, and I get a small smile. “Asshole.”
It’s an insult, I know that, but my body reacts to the word in a completely different way. To distract myself, I ask, “How long have you been here?”
“Eight years.”
“Then … you were twenty. Where did you live before here?”
“Lincoln. Near Sacramento.”
“I’m from Lancaster. Grew up near LA, but the three of us got out of there as soon as we could. Too busy. Too many bad memories.”
“Like?”
“Our parents were mostly absent. Hudson had issues. It was a lot, but we got through it. Can I ask … about the talking? It’s like you’re scared of it. Did something happen?”
He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and when he releases it, it’s puffier than usual. I pull my gaze away as Ziggy shakes his head roughly.
Okay, new topic.
Something lighter.
