Now it’s my turn to laugh. I welcome the lightness that fills my chest. “Probably because I was giving you sexual innuendos instead of real answers.” I figure Millie will appreciate bluntness in return, and she doesn’t leave me hanging with her response.
“We don’t even know each other’s last names, and the sexual innuendos have already started. Color me impressed.”
My right hand reaches out to shake hers. “Rowan Pierce.”
She smiles as she slides her tiny hand into mine. “Millie St. James.”
I roll her name around in my head. Something close to giddiness fills my chest at the idea of knowing another little tidbit of information about this girl, so much so that I crave to know more just to keep this feeling alive.
“What’s your favorite horror movie?”
She blinks slowly before tilting her head to the side to once again study me.“Scream, the original.”
“Interesting choice. I wouldn’t have pegged you for the stab-and-slice kind of girl.”
Her eyes narrow playfully. “Hey, I thought this was a judge-free zone.”
I raise my right hand and place it over my heart in a gesture of solidarity. “It is. I’m just surprised, is all.”
“You shouldn’t be; we’re practically strangers. I could be a serial killer for all you know.”
I raise one eyebrow as I dramatically make a show of looking her up and down. “You? A serial killer? Of what? Teddy bears?”
She giggles, “I totally could be! And that’s just mean to think I would hack up a teddy bear.” She actually looks offended for a second before she giggles again.
“My case in point.”
“Okay, tough guy. Your turn. What’s your favorite scary movie?” She drops her voice low and deep to mimic Ghostface. I’m sort of impressed at how wellof animpression she does. She must really be a true fan.
I laugh, “Oh, I see what you did there, and I’m not falling for it. I’m no damsel indistress.”
“Oh, come on! Don’t you like scary movies?” She throws her voice again, and I think I might die from the laughing fit that started right after her first impression.
“Mission: Impossible or The Bourne Identity are more my jam.”
“Erkkkk. Wrong answer!” This time her impression is broken up by her own laughter.
I grab my chest because my ribs are starting to hurt from laughing so hard. “Millie, what is wrong with you?”
“A lot of things, Rowan.A lot.”
“Fuck, Millie. I think I like you.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “Life shouldn’t be boring. It’s too short.”
“Well, Millie St. James, looks like you’re succeeding at life then because boring is the last word I would ever use to describe you.”
She bats her eyelashes. “Oh, shucks.”
We’re quiet for a moment before she asks, “Okay, my turn. What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Is it your turn? I thought you already asked your question.” I push back, not because I care that she asked the last question but because the question she did ask is one I have no desire to answer.
“Oh poopy, I guess I did. Okay, your turn. Shoot.”
I chuckle as I take in the bright-eyed and slightly weird girl beside me. She’s pretty in a natural way. There isn’t a lick of makeup on her face. Most of the puck bunnies I know would have layered the makeup on just to come out here and work all day in the sun, in the off chance that they would see someone they know.Who am I kidding?They wouldn’t step foot on this worksite for fear of breaking a fucking nail.
Millie is the exact opposite of that. You can tell she wants to be here. She smiles, and I notice a sprinkling of freckles that dot her nose and both cheeks, which crinkle when her lips pull up. My gaze finds hers, and I realize just how expressive her honey-brown eyes are. They draw me in and hold me captive.
