“What classifies as too personal?”
“Family. Work.” I shrug. “Things that are too close to home.”
He hums, considering my offer. “All right, I’ll play. What’s your least favorite color?”
“Myleastfavorite?” I laugh. “I can’t say I’ve ever been asked that.”
Hayes shifts closer. “I aim to surprise you.”
“I’m sure you do.” I roll my eyes. “Probably red. It’s just so bright and angry.”
“Angry? I didn’t know a color could have feelings.”
“Well, red does,” I argue. “What about you?”
“I thought I was the one asking the questions.”
“You are. And you’re also answering them.” My eyes narrow.
“Bossy.” He grins, not seeming the least bit put off by it. “Fair enough. Green. Next question—”
“No, not next question. Why green?” My eyebrows pinch. “Your eyes are green.”
“So were my mom’s.” He tilts his head. “But I’m pretty sure explaining that any further would break your no-personal-questions clause.”
Hayes watches me, and I realize he’s using my own rules against me. So I angle my chin up. No matter howmuch I want to know what about his mom’s eyes might make him hate the color green, asking him to answer will mean I might have to tell him something personal as well.
“Fair enough. Next question.”
He smirks. “What’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told?”
“That feels serious.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t even have to explain yourself if you don’t want to.”
“Okay.” I nibble my lower lip. “Biggest lie… They all love peanuts.”
Hayes’s eyebrows pinch.
“You said I didn’t have to explain myself,” I remind him. “Your turn.”
His face turns grim as he considers his. “Let’s go talk about it.”
“That’s it?”
He nods once. “That’s it.”
Just because I can’t ask him to elaborate doesn’t stop me from wondering who he said that to or why. Maybe this game was a terrible idea. I have more questions than answers.
“Last question.” He quickly shifts gears. “What’s one part of your body you hate being touched?”
My stomach flutters as his eyes rake over me. With the water soaking my bra and underwear, the lace hides nothing. Hayes appreciates every inch with his gaze, and there’s not much I don’t want touched by him.
I swallow hard, looking away. “My belly button.”
“Your—” He bursts out laughing. “That’s the last thing I was expecting.”
“I know it’s weird, but it’s true. I hate things touching my belly button. I swear you can feel it all the way inside your body and not in a good way.” I shiver just thinking about it. “What about you?”
