His question could be a trap to get me to admit I really want to know, so he can tease me mercilessly about it.
Funny thing is, I find I really do want to know more about him. He’s a puzzle, a riddle.
“Sure.”
He blinks again, brows lifting. “I’m from North Dakota, near Bismarck. I think.”
“You think?”
He shrugs. “Moved about quite a bit.”
“You don’t have an accent.”
He sips at his steaming coffee, his face going blank. “I left a long time ago.”
“Did something happen back then?”
A corner of his mouth curls up. “Didn’t know you cared, Embers.”
“I don’t.”
“I know. I was just joking.” His hand clenches on the table.
“Sorry. I’m not good at getting jokes.”
He laughs, and I just stare at him flatly, daring him to make fun of me about this.
“You’re serious,” he finally says, his eyes narrowing.
I shrug. “My parents used to tell jokes at the dinner table, explaining them to me, until I caught on. It’s much better now, but sometimes… sometimes I don’t get them.”
“How come? You’re not stupid.”
I chance a smile, my chest warming at his comment. “Yeah. I’m a bit dyslexic, though.”
His pupils widen. “That sucks, I guess. Had trouble at school?”
“Some.” My throat closes up and my smile falls. I take a sip from my coffee. “I’m not good with words. Never was.”
“Kids tease you for it?”
I nod.
“Fuckers,” he says, and he isn’t smiling anymore, either. His eyes flash with strong emotion, and I watch, fascinated, as his grip on the handle of the mug turns white-knuckled. “Wish I was there to punch their teeth out.”
Whoa. I shouldn’t like him as much as I do right now, but I can’t stop the smile returning to my face.
We sit for a while in silence. No sounds yet from Kayla’s room. I can hear the pipes groaning in the apartment above.
Anything to avoid looking at him. But of course I can’t help it. For the first time I notice the dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired.
As if to confirm my suspicion, Jesse puts his mug down and stretches his arms over his head with a yawn.
“Damn, I’m beat.”
“Your T-shirt is, too. It’s coming apart.” I point at the seam along his side through which I can see firm, tanned skin wrapped around sinewy muscle.
So much for not staring.