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“Hey.” He frowns. “It was real to me.”
“I doubt the girl thinks so.”
He sighs, tilting his head. “Fine. I guess my first real kiss was with this girl in middle school. I was…” He squints, deep in thought. “Twelve, I think.”
My eyes widen. “Oh my god, you were just a baby.”
“She didn’t think so,” he says with a grin. “Who was yours with? Boyfriend?”
I hate thinking of him as my boyfriend. I don’t want to think of him at all, but I won’t get far if I avoid the question, so I just nod. “Yeah. It was on my sixteenth birthday, actually.” I think back to that day, only a few months after Nia had died, and I let myself get distracted by him.
“Happy sweet sixteen,” he jokes. “Question number six. What’s your dream date?”
The question caught me off guard, and I let out a laugh. “Seriously? Again?”
“Hey,” he says with a shrug. “How am I supposed to know what my girlfriend likes if I don’t even know her favorite date?”
“Fake girlfriend,” I reiterate, narrowing my eyes.
His smirk makes a shiver run down my body. I hate when he does that, and I hate how attractive he is when he does it. “Answer the question, Madeline.”
A sigh escapes me as I shake my head. “I told you I don’t think about that stuff,” I tell him.
“Why not?” he asks, rubbing his chin.
“I don’t know,” I admit, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. “I guess I just know it will never happen, so I try not to get my hopes up.”
“So, you’ve never been in love?” he asks.
“No,” I admit to both him and myself. What I had with Daniel was everythingbutlove. “And I don’t think I ever will.”
His brows shoot up. “Seriously?” he asks.
I lift my shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just not for me,” I tell him, seeing his brows drop into a frown.
“Why not?”
I don’t want to get hurt again.“Just isn’t,” I say, not wanting to go into it, and I clear my throat. “Question number seven.”His eyes turn to me, waiting for my question. I smile when I ask, “What’s your dream date?”
He returns my grin. “You trying to ask me out?”
“Of course, your ego would think that.” He chuckles, and I hate to admit I like that sound. “Just answer my question.”
He tuts, shaking my head. “Sorry, only my future girlfriend gets to know that.”
My eyebrows lift. “Seriously?”
“Of course,” he says with a shrug. “I can’t tell you all my secrets. You might fall for me.”
“Careful,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “Your head might not fit through the door on your way out.”
He laughs again, settling into the couch. “Question number eight.”
I stop him with a raise of my hand. “You didn’t answer my question, why should I?”
He smirks, running his thumb over his bottom lip. “You’re dying to know what I like, huh?”
I roll my eyes. “I take it back. I don’t care anymore.”
