“So you’ve got some kind of relationship going on?” I ask.
“Nope,” he says. “I just think it’s good to ask. You know, that way everybody’s cards are on the table from the start.”
“Had some bad experiences?” I ask. “Seen some things?”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” he says, taking another drink of his soda. “You wouldn’t sleep right and I’d feel bad and it’d be this whole thing that’d just end up getting in the way of our torrid love affair.”
“You enjoy getting ahead of yourself, don’t you?” I ask.
“Just think about it,” he says. “We’re both young, available, absolutely stunning…” he takes a moment to run his fingers through his short, dirty blond hair before going on. “I know just how these things go.”
“Oh really?” I ask. “Please, do tell. How exactly are you going to sweep me off my feet and onto your beat-up futon?”
“Well, if I told you then it might not work right,” he says with a smirk and nod. “You know, I think we’re gonna be buddies, you and I.”
He is pretty attractive. I don’t usually go for the whole peacocking thing, but he’s amusing. He might even be charming if he’d just stop trying so hard to act like he’s not trying so hard.
Or is that what I’m doing?
I don’t know—I didn’t expect him to be witty, much less engaging. I expected the quasi-adolescent behavior. Still though, if nothing else, going out with him would give me the opportunity to get some more practice treating wounds. But is a relationship built upon gratuitous violence and the healthcare training possibilities it affords really worth the effort?
“You’re funny,” I tell him. “You bother Jana, so that’s a plus.”
“These are positive-sounding words,” he says. “Very positive, I like that.”
“You’re not as phenomenal a specimen as you so cle
arly would like to think you are, but you’re not the person I’m least thrilled about spending time with in the next twenty-four hours, so you’ve got that going for you,” I say, really trying to sell it as a compliment with my chipper tone and my generally ensorcelling demeanor.
“Oh, you,” he says. “You sure do know how to sweet talk a lady.”
“I’m not without my own wiles,” I tell him. “Seriously though, if they don’t bring something other than salad out in the next few minutes, I might have to create an embarrassing scene.”
“You know what I like about you?” he asks.
“What?” I return, my eyes already rolling.
“You have the most incredible eyes,” he says. “They’re judgmental a bit more often than is probably healthy, but you’ve really got a couple of fine specimens there.”
“That still wasn’t quite a compliment, but I think you’re getting closer,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I’ll work on it,” he says.
After a while, our food arrives. I roll my eyes a lot more before the meal is over, but I never get up from my chair.
He’s smug, and all joking aside, what he does “in his free time” scares me more than a little, but he’s so easy to talk to, leaving never crosses my mind. Before I know it, we’re already making plans to see each other again.
It’s not until we’ve paid the bill and we’re walking out of the restaurant that I realize I now have nothing but eventuality standing between me and the intermittent sounds of Dandelion’s mantras for everything from conquer sores to enlightenment. I can put it off, maybe even for a few days if I want to stay in a hotel, but sooner or later, I’m going to have to go home.
I just hope we all make it out of there alive.
Chapter Three
Dreaming in Color
Mason
“Wick got caught, I know that,” Logan says, clenching his teeth as he tries to get a few more reps done on the bench. “I just got the hell outta there, if I’m being honest with you. I know I can throw down like a mofo, but guys as pretty as me don’t do well in the cage. There are just too many guys who wanna get a handle on some of this, you know?” he asks, setting the bar back in its cradle.