When he grins, his dimple pops. “Because you can read people like a book.”
I let out a loud laugh that I’d normally be embarrassed about, but I feel too free to care. “I can readyoulike a book because you have the worst poker face.” Feeling cheeky, I nudge his leg with my foot. “Aren’t fighters supposed to be good at hiding their reactions?”
He looks downright delighted by the question. “I’m sorry, are youteasingme?”
I shrug, feeling too happy to hide my smile.
“For your information, I have a fantastic poker face when I’m fighting,” Nico says with a sniff. Then after a moment, he adds, “It’s just you I can’t hide my thoughts from.”
Part of me loves that, because I feel the same way about him.
“So, what’s the dream?” he asks. “Why psychology?”
“I haven’t gotten that far,” I admit. “I have no idea what I’ll do with it, if anything. It’s just…something to do for now.”
“And you enjoy it?” Nico presses. “You like your classes?”
I nod, a small smile coming back. “I like them a lot. And…”
Nico latches onto the word. “And…what?”
I take a deep breath before admitting, “And I’m really,reallygood at it. I have the highest grades in every one of my classes.”
I’ve never told anyone that. I never wanted to sound like I was bragging, or that I thought I was better than anyone. But with Nico…
With Nico, something else flashes in his eyes.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “You’re sexyandsmart? Are you even real?”
I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to a man.
Nico might see the thought in my eyes because he sucks in a breath as heat flames inhis. His gaze drops to my mouth, and he reaches for my chair to pull me closer?—
“Here you are, folks, one flight of our light beers.”
I jerk back as the bartender puts a tray of four small beers on the bar in front of me. “Th-thank you,” I stammer, my cheeks warming as I lean away from Nico. “Which ones…?”
The bartender points at each beer as he lists out, “In order, you have the Pilsner, Pale Ale, Wheat Beer, and then—excuse the executive decision—I brought you a cider to try, too. If you don’t know much about beer, you might prefer that one or a sour.”
Nico slips a twenty into the tip jar in front of us. “Thanks, man. These are great.”
Once again, excitement bubbles inside me. “Should I just try them in order?” I ask Nico, studying the beers. “Or is there a specific process for this?”
“You can try them in whatever order you want,” he says with a chuckle, resting an arm along the back of my chair. “I’m curious to see which one you like the most.”
I pick up the far-left glass and take a tentative sniff before lifting it to my lips.
“Well? What’s the verdict?” he asks as I let the flavor sit on my tongue before swallowing.
“It’s…not bad.”
But Nico must see the lie on my face because he grins and says, “Beer in general might be an acquired taste. At first, it kind of tastes like ass.”
I take another sip. “How old were you when you had your first drink?”
“Fourteen, I think. I’m the youngest, so I started everything a little too early.”
Lifting the second beer to my lips, I take a sip.
