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“Stop it.” My cheeks burn. “I don’t appreciate being called a slut outside of…you know.”
“That, I do know.” He loosens his grip but doesn’t release me as he fingers the pulse point.
“How…do you know?”
“We’ve been together for long enough that I can read your body language. It’s the first thing I notice about people.”
“Why?”
“Hmm.” His voice is absentminded, seeming deep in thought. “I think it’s because I was taught to be mindful of what type of image I project onto the world.”
“And that gave you the opportunity to learn about people’s body language?”
“Yes.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. You would be surprised how much people
divulge about themselves with a simple gesture. A rub of the nose, sweaty hands, fidgeting, or even looking at a person for too long gives me a hint of their state of mind.”
“Only a hint? Why not the whole picture?”
“Because it’s never enough. Their clothes, posture, and way of talking are what completes it. Usually, one meeting is enough to determine whether the person is a friend or foe.”
“What category was I in?” I tease.
Sebastian’s expression, however, is blank. Only his furrowed brow is an indication of what I assume is confusion. Or maybe it’s displeasure.
“Neither,” he says quietly.
“I thought those were the only categories you have. Are there others I should know about?”
“Not yet.”
“Come on, that’s not fair.”
“Never claimed to belong to that neurotypical category.”
“Because you read people?”
“Because I tactfully avoid the bad kind.”
“Aren’t you bad yourself?”
“Depends on the circumstances.”
“Such as?”
“Being threatened, for instance.”
“Considering your selective skills, you’d be able to prevent danger. You should become a detective.”
“Long hours for minimum wage? No, thanks.”
“Greedy, too, I see.”
“I’m not greedy. I just recognize my worth. It’d be an insult to my IQ to follow a career that won’t lead me anywhere.”
