She stares at me, her lips parted slightly. “How did you know that about me?” she asks in a whisper.
I shrug. “I’ve known you for over twenty-seven years, Firefly. You can learn a lot about a person in that time.”
She swallows, her brows furrowing. “But I don’t know that about you,” she says, her voice edged with a hint of regret for not knowing.
I turn sideways to face her, my arm leaning on the back of the couch. “Then ask me.” I wink.
Her mouth hangs open. “Did you just wink at me?” she says with a bubble of laughter.
Fuck she was beautiful.
“I wink a lot; you just never bother to notice before. It works on the fang bangers.” I smirk.
She rolls her eyes. “You could tell them you had the clap and they would still want to bang you.”
She’s got a point; those women only saw the patch, the biker. They would shag anything if it meant having the ol’ lady title. That kind of status and protection isn’t something to be sniffed at.
“So come on, ask me. Anything.” I shrug. “What do you want to know?” I pause before she can. “Let’s make it interesting. You’ve got three minutes to ask me as many questions as you like.”
“Why three?” she asks.
“Because you need to sleep,” I say. “You’re a little crabby,” I point out. “Okay, go.”
She pauses for a moment and nibbles on her bottom lip again, briefly. “What’s your favourite film or films?” she asks.
“Easy. The Green Mile, Mars Attacks, Ghost,” I say.
Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Ghost? You like Ghost?”
“Of course, the movie is brilliant,” I shrug.
“But it’s a romance,” she says, with an odd expression on her face.
“I mean, if you want to be specific, it’s a tragedy.”
She rolls her eyes. “Alright then, it’s a chick flick.”
I shrug. “Now who’s stereotyping?” I counter. “You’re wasting time here,” I remind her.
She lifts her hand, flipping me her middle finger, making me laugh. Her green eyes flash with amusement.
“Give me another,” I urge.
“Favourite band?”
“Alice in Chains. Next,” I answer quickly.
“Favourite show?”
“Fresh Prince and Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” I answer. Her lips twitch, fighting a smile.
“Favourite sport?” she asks quickly.
“Rugby,” I answer.
She blinks, confusion on her face. “I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve lived in other countries,” I remind her.
She nods. “Favourite colour?”
