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As he sauntered toward me, all my checkboxes melted away like ice cubes; none of that stuff seemed important in comparison to the way he moved.
One of the things that always attracted me to Grayson was the way he entered a room. It was as though heownedthe room and everyone in it. But the guy heading toward me moved like he wasworkingthe room; playing it like a skilled musician.
Disgrace snapped to attention. “Charming,”she observed, “Experienced. He’s a player. That chick on the internet that tweeted ‘Guys only want one thing and it’s fucking disgusting?’ yeah, she was talking aboutthisguy.”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Effie whispered as she evaporated.
A tingling cocktail of giddiness and fear jumped in my gut like popcorn. Disgrace crossed her legs on her throne and helped herself.
The guy stopped next to me, leaned against the railing so we faced the same direction—like we were on ateam—and leaned down to my ear.
“Wanna hear something stupid?” he asked, his voice low, conspiratorial.
It was like we already knew each other.
Like he already knew all my dirty little secrets, and he wanted to help me make more.
“Sure,” I squeaked, the knot tightening in my stomach.
“I was over at that bar, watching you for fifteen minutes and trying to think of a pickup line that wouldn’t cross yours. But I came up with so many lines going so many different directions that I drew one hell of a tic-tac-toe grid. Wanna play?”
My mind spun with the double and triple meanings to his words. This was a test; a battle of wits. I’d never been particularly good at thinking on my feet, and my flirting was out of practice. Thankfully, he took the reins.
“No?” he frowned, but there was a wicked gleam in his sapphire eyes. “All you need to do is tell me where to put an x, and where to put anoh.”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks. My throat tightened as I said, “I’ve never been a fan of games.”
Nice job, you boring little twit,Disgrace quipped, munching on her popcorn.Now he’s going to go find someone who can keep up with him—
“That’s an x, then,” he said with a wry grin. “Luckily on most treasure maps, x marks the spot.”
“X is also a line,” I blurted out.
I didn’t think he’d get it. I thought my math nerdiness would make this cool stranger laugh politely, make an excuse to leave, and make his escape. Instead—
“An axis.Whywould you draw your line at zero?”
“That’s a terrible pun,” I said, trying to sound aloof. But I could feel a traitorous smile stretching across my face.
He winked, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, I know. Your line’s at zero because you’ve got zero tolerance for my stupid jokes. You’ll need a drink in your hand if I want to keep moving to the right. What’s your poison?”
Tolerate. Tolerance. My anxiety medication. I couldn’t mix it with alcohol. But it had been a few days since I’d taken the Xanax, and I didn’t plan to take any tonight.
Then again, no one ever planned to have an anxiety attack.
My eyes fell on Effie in her sparkling silver dress, entertaining a group of people with her overflowing charisma. As long as she was around, I could go without my medication.
“Whisky,” I said to the stranger, trying very hard not to look into his intense eyes.
“Ooh, she has taste! That’s an oh in my book,” he said with a wide grin.
His validation washed over me, soothing my nerves.
“Whisky and what? The blood of virgins? Tears of your enemies? Sap from Yggdrasil?”
I chuckled. “I’ve never met someone who brought up Yggdrasil in a conversation.”
His sculpted mouth stretched into a wicked grin and he shrugged. “Know your audience.”
