“Me?” He darts a finger into the middle of his chest. “What do you think?”
All I know is that Drake calls him Case. I’ve never heard him use a nickname for his best friend.
“You tell me,” I challenge.
He looks me over. “I could say no.”
“But that wouldn’t be the honest answer, would it?” I bite my lip, studying his handsome face. “Everyone has at least one nickname in their lifetime whether they want to admit it or not.”
That statement isn’t based on any actual facts. I’m speaking from experience working with kids. Most, if not all, of the children I’ve come in contact with through work have had a nickname or two bestowed on them by their parents or a best friend.
“Is that so?” he asks, eyeing me as though he half-believes what I say. “I’ve had a few nicknames in my time. The first was my least favorite.”
“You got that when you were a kid?”
“Yeah.” He draws a finger over his bottom lip. “One of the twins who lived next door thought it would be fucking hilarious to call me Rabbit.”
“Because?” My smile makes it obvious that I’m taking way too much pleasure in this.
“Before braces were slapped on these pearly whites, I had an overbite that was so severe that when someone told me to shut my mouth, I literally couldn’t.” He flashes me a glimpse of his perfectly straight, white teeth beneath a brilliant smile.
“So the boy next door called you Rabbit because…”
“It rhymes with Abbott and because I looked like a rabbit for a good year or two.” His gaze drops to the table. “Frannie thought it was the funniest thing every time she called me that.”
The twin was a girl.
“Did you have a nickname for Frannie?” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“No.” He shakes his head. “She was just Frannie to me.”
I run a fingernail over the rim of the wineglass in front of me. “You said that was your least favorite nickname, so what’s your favorite?”
“Rush,” he says without hesitation.
I blink twice. Sandy called one of her boyfriends in college Rush because he was a two-minute man in bed. She bestowed that name on him after they slept together. I’m the only person who heard her say it, but whenever we take a trip down memory lane, she brings him up.
There’s no way Case earned that nickname for the same reason. Although, he did only need fifteen minutes with Maya the other night and today I overheard Maya say that their time with Pam and Rod in the bedroom was hurried.
“Why don’t you seem surprised that’s my nickname?” he questions with a raise of one brow.
I laugh off that comment a little too exuberantly. “My roommate in college had a boyfriend she nicknamed Rush. Who calls you that?”
Leaning back in his chair, he narrows his eyes. “Only one person does.”
I might as well take this conversation to its destined end. “Is it Maya?”
He recoils back. “Maya? Why would she call me Rush?”
Dammit.
Since I don’t want to answer that directly, I try a new approach. “Is it another woman?”
His brow furrows. “It’s my grandfather.”
“Oh,” I start laughing. “I thought…well, I was wrong.”
I pick up my glass and finish what’s left of my wine. I look over to the bottle, but it’s empty.
