‘Seriously?’ My chest rises with fury. ‘Who the hell is it for?’
If he is holding onto this for a girlfriend, I think I might die.
‘It’s for my brother.’
Thank God.
‘Oh… so yourbrotheris the big fan then?’
‘Yeah, he is,’ he says quietly. I study him as he casts his gaze away, looking anywhere but me. ‘I mean, I am too. But the drumstick is for him.’
‘You must be close with him if you’re willing to go through this ordeal on his behalf?’
‘Yeah,’ he says with a nod. But he sounds unsure, and his face remains blank as he takes another sip of beer.
‘So, could he not get a ticket?’
He sighs, and I realise that his body language is calmly but undeniably shrieking:I do not wish to have this conversation.
Is he tired of our truce already? I go to cross my arms before realising that I can’t, resulting in me awkwardly half crossing one arm.
‘Sorry, I’m not data-mining. Just making conversation with my fellow prisoner.’
He shakes his head and leans towards me, resting his elbows on his knees.
‘Sorry. I just don’t like talking about my family too much.’ His voice is firm. ‘It’s a weird topic for me. It’s not you.’
Guilt pools in my gut knowing that I pushed for information he hadn’t felt comfortable sharing.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say with a frown. ‘I wouldn’t have asked so many questions if I knew.’
‘It’s okay. Our one and only conflict is still this thing,’ he tells me, lifting the drumstick and also my arm as a result.
‘A conflict that will be resolved in approximately forty-eight hours,’ I say as I raise my glass to him. He returns the gesture with warmth in his eyes.
‘We can only hope.’
9
Itap my fingers against my arm before fixing him with a haughty look.
‘So, supposed Queen Ego fan,’ I say, taking in his relaxed pose, his rolled up sleeves and the easy curve to his lips, like there’s no reason he would be anywhere but here. ‘What’s your favourite album?’
I can’t resist asking the question. At least to see if he has a response.
‘I think I’m a little scared to answer,’ he replies, eyeing me with a touch of edginess.
I immediately scoff. ‘You’re not scared of me. And I’m not about togatekeepor anything. Just give me a little album name,’ I say with a growing smile.
‘Alright…’ he says. ‘Okay.Pillow Fight. What’s the official verdict on that?’
I blink. ‘Oh.’
My favourite album too. I’m not sure if I feel pleased or vaguely miffed that we have that in common.
His hand pauses reaching for his glass with a smirk. ‘I’ve surprised you?’
‘No,’ I bite back, brushing my fringe away from my eyes.
