“No. I figured, why ruin the illusion?” he said bitterly. “They all thought you were perfect.”
“I never pretended to be perfect,” I mumbled, picking invisible lint off my pants. “How’s Hollie?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from another yell-fest.
“She’s great. The same gangly, awkward, but beautiful girl. She started middle school last year and is a total band geek now,” he answered like a proud parent. She was his kid sister, but in truth he was probably a better father than her real dad.
“Band? That’s great. I guess the tone-deaf gene skipped her, huh?”
“Must have. She definitely has mad skills.”
“What about Travis?”
“He’s better once we convinced him he wasn’t that unique just because he came out of the closet.”
“And your dad? Is he still giving him a hard time?” I inquired with an edge in my voice. Out of his whole family, the only one I’d disliked was his father. Since his parents were divorced, I’d had the misfortune of meeting him once. He was a total monkey-douche. How Justin’s sweet, loving, and a bit harebrained mother wound up with such an ass was beyond me. He was unyielding and opinionated and gave all new meaning to the word dictator. >It was thirty minutes later when he finally looked up from the page. “Sorry, I wanted to get that down while it was still fresh in my mind,” he said, closing the sketchpad.
“Not so fast,” I said, holding out my hand. “Let me see.”
“It’s not done,” he answered, stowing it in his bag.
I didn’t argue. The intensity he had the entire time he was drawing led me to believe he took his work very seriously.
“So, what do you think?” he asked, indicating the large expanse of windows in front of us. “Pretty cool way to show visitors a glimpse into what it’s like beneath Puget Sound?”
“It’s breathtaking. I could stay here all day.”
“Been there, done that,” he said, throwing his head back to laugh. Several preteen girls turned to stare at him, looking completely entranced before dissolving into a heap of giggles. As we left the viewing area, I could still hear them giggling and chattering away.
“I think you have a fan club,” I said, throwing a look over my shoulder at the girls.
“You think?” he asked, raising his pierced eyebrow, which naturally drew my attention. Everything about him seemed designed to appeal to the opposite sex. I wasn’t the only one to notice as we continued walking through the aquarium. I caught women young and old openly admiring him. There was no denying he was attractive. Obviously, any warm-blooded female would attest to that. Knowing the way the female mind works, I realized I was also being judged by his many admirers as to whether I was worthy to be with someone with his looks. Not that I felt I was ugly, but feeling insecure around guys was never my thing. Being with Justin had a way of making me feel like I was lacking in one capacity or another. It was more my problem than his, and I realized that. The only problem was I was beginning to find I actually enjoyed his company. He was laid back, good-natured, and very easy to talk to. It was a shame I had to end things before they got started.
We were eating lunch when I mentioned it. “Today has been really fun.”
“Why do I sense a but coming?” he asked, dipping a French fry in ketchup.
I smiled slightly at his intuitiveness. At least he wasn’t dense like the last guy I ended it with before the first date was even over. “But, I just think we’re too different.”
“Different? How?”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not the most open person,” I started, glaring at him when he grinned broadly at my words. “Fine, it’s obvious,” I acknowledged. “The point is you’re the exact opposite. You have a way of making someone feel special even if you don’t say a word.”
“Care to elaborate?” he asked, settling back in his chair with his arms crossed across his chest.
“Like you don’t know,” I answered, exasperated. “A smile here. A wink there. You’re a born flirt. I may have been off on the bad-boy part, but I was dead-on when it comes to your flirty nature.”
“Flirty nature? God, could you emasculate me any more?” he joked, leaning forward so we were closer. “So, I’m friendly. No harm, no foul.”
“Player,” I countered.
“Easygoing,” he volleyed.
“Tease.”
“Affectionate.”
I couldn’t help laughing at his persistence. “Whatever way you phrase it, I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“What are you looking for?” he asked with a more serious tone.