He nods, like that makes sense to him. “Your turn. Ask me something.”
I inhale. “Why do your parents stay here if they have money to leave?”
“People think the rich don’t care,” he mutters. “My grandfather doesn’t. My dad does. He says even the scum deserve healthcare.”
“He sounds like a good person.”
Jax snorts, bitter. “Wouldn’t know. Barely see him.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I keep moving.
“My turn,” he says. “Favorite food.”
I shrug. “I’m not picky. I eat anything.”
He glances at me. “You don’t have a favorite?”
I hesitate.
“Not really,” I say. “We don’t… I mean, we don’t get to try much.”
He doesn’t say anything.
I exhale. “But sometimes my dad brings stuff back. From work.”
“What kind of stuff?”
I think. “Fries,” I say. “The ones they serve with the steak. They put stuff on them,” I go on. “Like the little pieces from the grill. And cheese. And sauce. It’s usually all mixed together by the time it gets home.” I shrug. “It’s messy but really good.”
He watches me. “So, loaded fries?” he says.
I make a face. “He only brings them when there’s extras.” I shrug again. “That’s a good day.”
I glance at him. He’s looking at me like I said something he wasn’t expecting. “My turn,” I rush. “Do you know what you want to do after graduation?”
There’s a pause. “No,” he says finally. “Everyone thinks I should follow my dad and be a doctor. No way I’m gonna be anything like him.”
“But what do you want?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
When he answers, his voice is quieter than I’ve ever heard it. “I like… writing.”
I blink. “You… write?”
“Go ahead. Laugh.”
“I’m not laughing,” I say quickly. “I just didn’t expect?—”
“A brain?” he cuts in.
I look away.
“That’s okay,” he says. “I know my looks can be distracting.”
“Maybe it’s the smugness,” I bite out.
