“Right.” Percy’s gaze flicked to his team and back to me. Then he swung sideways in his chair, hissing across the room. “Donovan! Hey, Donnie!”
An emo-looking guy dressed all in black swiveled his head toward us. He was younger than us, so I didn’t recognize him from school, but I’d seen him working in the kitchen at The Diner.
His eyes were dark—but I could still see the way they lit up when they landed on Percy.
“Hey, are you—” His gaze flicked to me, then dimmed. “Oh. You’re with someone.”
“You know the answer to this one, right?”
Donovan nodded. “We got it!”
“Cool.” Percy turned back to me.
Donovan’s gaze lingered on him a moment until he saw me watching. He abruptly turned back to his group, which included a redhead I’d seen working at the pharmacy and a dark-haired woman who could have been Donovan’s sister, wearing a D&D T-shirt.
“Sorry,” Percy said. “I just can’t trust that group to win without me.”
“We didn’t have to go out tonight,” I said. “If you wanted to play with your team.”
“You weren’t available Thursday or Friday, and I’ve got a family thing Saturday, so…” He shrugged. “But it’s fine. I want to get to know you.”
That was a nice sentiment, but he’d yet to ask me anything about myself.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ve got a big business conference, and they wanted centerpieces for all the tables. I’m going to be working overtime to get them all arranged and set up.”
“Do you do that a lot?”
“Occasionally,” I said. “Mostly for weddings. Sometimes funerals, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
He nodded. “I appreciate the care you take with the floral arrangements. They always look great.”
I smiled tentatively. “Thank you. That’s really?—”
“Shit, it wasn’t Hoover,” he muttered, turning in his chair again. “Donovan! Hey, did you get that one right?”
I glanced up at the screen. Sure enough, the first televised president was Franklin D. Roosevelt.
Donovan sent him a thumbs up, and Percy huffed. “I can’t believe that’s not Hoover. Maybe the trivia people got it wrong.” He pulled up his phone, presumably to verify the answer.
“You take your trivia seriously, huh?”
“It’s fun,” he said, though he didn’t look like he was having fun.
“Damn, it really is Roosevelt.” He huffed. “I usually get these answers right. I’m really smart.”
And modest.
Between the comment about his banging body, how good-looking he was, and now his intelligence, Percy was a lot vainer than I’d anticipated. Or maybe he was overcompensating for insecurities.
“Did you know that answer?” he asked.
I hesitated. “No. I thought Hoover might be a little early for television, but?—”
“And you didn’t tell me?” he accused, leaning forward aggressively.
Oh, boy.
I smiled tightly. “I wasn’t sure of the answer, Percy. And I’m not actually here to play trivia.”
