My mind goes blank, kinda like when you’re in a group of people, and you need to do an icebreaker and hate every second of the ‘hi, I’m Jay, I live in Oregon, and my favorite color is blue’ shit.
“I don’t have a clue what would surprise you, since I thought liking Post Malone was normal?”
She chuckles, the sound carrying around us. “Okay, that’s fair. I guess I just assumed you’d be more of a John Mayer fan?”
“I can’t be both?”
“You can. I actually like that you’re both. That’s what’s surprising. You’ve got layers.”
I shake my head, folding one of my shirts into a too-neat square.
“Come on, give me something else. Favorite place to go when you’re sad? Weird habit? Secret tattoo?”
I arch a brow. “You think I’m hiding ink somewhere?”
Her grin is immediate. “Tell me you wouldn’t look hot with a sleeve.”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I focus way too hard on smoothing the corner of a T-shirt. “No tattoos. Yet.”
That one word has her eyes glinting. “Yet. Interesting.”
“Do I need to know your favorite place to go when you’re sad?”
“Why?”
“So I can find you and feed you feijoada, of course.”
She pairs her socks thoughtfully. “I like the water. You’ll probably find me crying, adding to the volume of a lake somewhere. Or in the bath, a little less dramatic, maybe. But be warned if there’s Celine Dion playing, approach with caution.”
I nod, storing that information away, hoping I won’t need it. “Noted.”
“Your turn.”
“I don’t get sad often, but I like solitude, so probably in my room.”
She pulls out a thong, and I try to ignore it. “Listening to John Mayer?”
I laugh under my breath. “Yeah, something like that.”
We continue chatting and revealing pieces of ourselves to one another until the only sound is Post Malone playing through the speakers and the shuffle of fabric as we fold side by side. It’s ordinary, but I like that I know more about her.
“So tell me about your date tonight,” I say, half wanting to hear about it and half not at all.
She twists her lips, avoiding my eyes. “He seems… nice.”
“That wasn’t very convincing.”
The exhale that leaves her feels weighty as her blue eyes find mine. “He’s great, seems a bit confident, but that’s not an issue, it’s that there’s a feeling I can’t put my finger on.”
Confusion pulls at my brow. “So why are you going on the date at all?”
She considers her answer and takes a second to respond. “I don’t know. You’ll think I’m ridiculous.”
“Try me,” I say. “I’ve grown up with older sisters, and Hudson is my best friend, not a lot can faze me, Liv.”
She pauses, eyes fixed on the shirt in her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe I just want to see if I can still tell the difference between good intentions and bad ones.” A weak laugh slips out. “God, that sounds dramatic, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t think it’s dramatic,” I say. “I think it means you’re putting yourself out there.”
