I shift my gaze sideways to a pair of innocent eyelashes, and I realize then just howdirtyshe’s playing. Like she can whip me into drooling submission before she has to answer anything. That may have worked for a girl like Kate in the past, but she hadn’t metmeyet.
“What makes you the happiest?”
She cocks her head. “What?”
“What makes you happy, Kate?”
Kate looks adorably annoyed. “What, no, ‘where did you grow up’ or ‘how many siblings do you have’?”
I casually sprawl my wingspan across the step behind us with an easy grin. “Nope. C’mon, scaredyKate. Answer me.”
She sets her chin with a glare, and it might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Photography,” she mutters.
“Care to expand on that?”
“Nope.”
“What if I dared you to?” I lean so close that our noses are practically touching.
Her gaze drifts to my lips before darkening. She wants what I’m not giving her, and I won’t until she finishes playing my little game.
“Ugh,fine. I started taking photos when my Grandma Chen bought me a DSLR camera for my fifteenth birthday. I got a receptionist job at a photography studio, learned everything I could, and now I’m the one taking pictures.”
She flips her long black hair over her shoulder, and a faint whiff of something floral distracts me. Kate’s obsidian eyes meet mine again, much closer this time, and she does that lip-roll-bite thing with her mouth again.
But I am a man of steel.
“Goals?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes, shifting away until she’s facing the water. “Get my fine arts degree and find a career in a museum.”
“Fine arts? That’s my major, too, but I’m minoring in art history. Why haven’t I seen you around campus before?”
“Is that your third question, Mr. Roberts?” She playfully closes the distance to the shell of my ear, breathing the words, “Think carefully.”
My thoughts go poof as goosebumps break out where her breath fans across me, and she pulls away with a wicked smile.
I choke out the next stupid question I can think of. “Biggest disappointment?”
Kate seems to pale at my question. A thousand emotions flash through her expression, but her lips are a tight line.
An urge to backpedal beats hard in my chest. I reach out and take her smaller hand in mine. Sure, I’d like to know more about her, but I’m not a prying jerk.
“You don’t have to answer that,” I say.
Kate’s surprised eyes cut to mine. She studies me for a good thirty seconds before she sighs.
“I promised. And when I promise something, I never break it.” She bites her lip, then tips her head to stare at the stars. “It’s a long story.”
I’m not sure if she’s looking for an out, so I lamely say, “I’ve got time… if you want.”
Another long breath stretches between us before she speaks.
“When I was a senior, I had to take an oil painting class for one of my school electives. I had this art teacher named Mr. Jones.” A small smile rounds out her mouth. “He was one of those crazy high school teachers whose life revolved around their students. Mr. Jones never judged us on talent. Good thing too, because I sucked.” She laughs, her nose crinkling up.
The sound freezes me in place on the stone bench. It’s like her entire personality is condensed inside that singular sound.
