Page 20 of Freefall

I smile. “Which is…”

Nate’s lips part ever so slightly, revealing a flash of white teeth. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

I can’t contain the exaggerated gasp that slips out. “Was that…did you just make a joke?”

His stony eyes narrow into thin slits. “How do you know I don’t make jokes? For all you know, I could be a comedian in my spare time.”

He says this with the straightest face I’ve ever seen.

“Just a hunch.”

The waitress returns with our drinks, setting the glasses of fizzy brown liquid in front of us.

“Your turn,” I say as soon as she leaves.

His brows furrow. “My turn for what?”

“I asked you a question. Now it’s your turn to ask me one.”

He runs his hand through his hair, and that’s when I notice the class ring on his finger.

“That’s Nate Caldwell. He’s practically royalty at Emberfield High. Star quarterback. Major player. Not to mention a generous lover. I heard he can make girls see stars—like, literally, just from his hands.”

This is what Grace had said to me when he and his friends sat in my section that night all those years ago. Our interaction was brief. After I stopped laughing at Grace’s use of the term “generous lover” like she was writing a nineteen-eighties bodice ripper, I went over and took their order, but when I came back to deliver their drinks, he was gone.

I’m trying to reconcile the picture she painted with the man sitting in front of me. This stern, broody, beautiful man who looks more suited to being the dean of a university than an athlete. Although his thighs very much say otherwise. I couldn’t keep my eyes from drifting over to admire the corded muscles straining against his jeans during the drive here.

“What’s your favorite color?” he finally asks, and my heart does a little flip at the grade-school innocence of his question.

“Green. You?

“Black.” Shocker.

“Favorite movie?”

“The Big Lebowski.”

“Huh. Wasn’t expecting that. Although I feel like you might be a nihilist, so I guess it tracks.”

That earns me an almost-laugh that he promptly covers up with a cough.

“The Princess Bride,” I say before he can even ask.

“That definitely tracks.” He emphasizes the last word.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment regarding my sophisticated taste in cinema.”

“You should. It’s a great movie.”

My eyes narrow. I can’t help but test him. “What’s your favorite part?”

“That depends. Are you asking because you really want to know or because you're trying to determine if I’ve actually seen it?”

“Both,” I answer honestly.

He picks up the straw next to his drink, slamming it against the table until the plastic pokes through the paper wrapper. Why the hell was that so sexy?

“When Inigo finally confronts the six-fingered man. The whole revenge plot is kind of silly up until then. Like the movie was using humor as a coping mechanism. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but then he’s finally faced with the man who killed his father—and he finally gets to say the words he’s wanted to say for years. Plus…” He shoves the straw into his drink. “It was satisfying as fuck.”