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“What do you want to talk about?” I asked.

“You could ask me one of your weird questions.”

“My questions are not weird,” I said, lisping through my stupid retainer.

He propped himself up on his elbow. “‘Would you rather drink toilet water or eat dirty kitty litter?’ That’s not weird?”

“That was an excellent ice breaker, meant to get to the core of who you are as a person.”

“Uh-huh.” His eyes were creased at the corners.

“Well, what about your questions? They suck too.”

“My questions are great. You just don’t take them seriously.”

I gasped. “I have taken every question you’ve asked me seriously.” Major lisp on seriously.

He looked amused. “Really? Your near-death experience was when your thighs were rubbing together at Disney World on your twenty-fifth birthday—”

“I WAS FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE, JACOB.”

He laughed and his chest rumbled against my arm. It rumbled everywhere. He was so close.

We were alone…

I swear his eyes flickered to my mouth for a second and I had the brief realization that if he kissed me right now, I wouldn’t say no. I couldn’t. It was like I was under some spell. I had just enough strength to hold my ground, but not enough to save me if he advanced. I prayed that Jacob would be Jacob tonight and be respectful. He always was. But what if he wasn’t?

A very specific part of me was hoping he wasn’t. My traitorous vagina was putting on war paint and blowing a Viking horn like it was about to go ransack Jacob’s village.

I cleared my throat. “These get-to-know-you questions are very important for our fake relationship.”

“And what exactly did you learn by asking me what kind of mullet I’d be?”

“I learned your hair grows out curly and you have a great laugh?”

He cracked up again. He was still smiling when he went on. “You should ask me real things. Things with substance.”

“You’re not ready for my substance questions. Believe me. They’re extremely invasive.”

He adjusted himself on his elbow. “Try me.”

I sat up on my elbow and looked at him. “You can’t handle it.”

“I can.”

I narrowed my eyes. “No.”

I lay back down.

“What? What do you mean, no?”

“No. I don’t have a kiddie pool, Jacob. I go right from Would You Rather to the deep end. It’s Truth or Dare on steroids. We’re not there. We might never be there.”

“Just so I’m understanding what your hesitation is, you think I won’t be willing to answer the heavy questions you might ask me.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“I will.”