“You asked.”
“And you could’ve said something unique, like burnt marigold or—oh, I don’t know—chartreuse.”
“That’s not a real color.”
“It is, actually. You’d know that if you didn’t live in grayscale. Okay, next question. If you could only eat one food—other than chocolate—for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
“You’re really going to waste your one chance at truth on that?”
“Absolutely. This is serious journalism,Professor.”
He thought for a moment. “Probably hummus.”
“Hummus?” I teased. “That’s not even a real answer. That’s like saying ‘air’ or ‘water.’”
He faced me, and I could almost see the ghost of a smile. “It’s versatile.”
“Fine,” I said. “Then mine is fries. Not versatile at all, but they’ve never disappointed me.”
“That explains a lot,” he murmured.
I gasped, feigning offense. “Are you implying I’m basic?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. It was implied in your tone. Favorite season?”
“Autumn.”
“Predictable. Next.”
“You didn’t even process the last one.”
“I processed it. I just decided it wasn’t interesting enough to dwell on. Who’s the guy in all your pictures?”
He froze. “Uh...my best friend.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have best friends?”
“He passed away.”
“Oh.” My chest tightened. “I’m sorry.Allah yarhamu.”
He nodded once, like that was all the space he wanted to give it. Then, casually, “I guess you’re kind of my best friend now.”
A weird, jittery thing knocked against my heart. Under the covers, my hand had drifted toward the middle of the mattress at some point. His was resting on top of the blanket, palm down, the fabric dipping between us in a ghost of contact. Warmthfiltered through layers of thread, thealmostof it. Close enough to register, not close enough to claim.
I found myself wondering what it would feel like without the barrier, or polite stretch of cotton, or plausible deniability. Just skin meeting skin, heat answering heat.
I didn’t move.
Neither did he.
“You mean youronlyfriend,” I said lightly, because deflection was my cardio. “What about your biggest fear?”
He hesitated long enough for me to know he wasn’t going to answer. I filled the silence before it got too heavy. “Mine’s pigeons.”
“Pigeons?”
