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“Fine! Your favorite movie.”
“Hm.” This seems to please him. Or, at least, it doesn’tdispleasehim. “Terminator.”
I bark out a laugh. “Oh, my God, really?”
“What? I like the idea that time isn’t linear.”
“Please.” I roll my eyes. “Lots of movies have time travel in them.”
“Fine. If you must know… I used to have a crush on Summer Glau.”
I try to suppress another laugh, but a small giggle still slips out. “Ow!” Now I know he’s doing it on purpose.
“You?”
“I love lots of movies.”
“You have to choose one.”
“Uh…The Matrix.”
He gives a dry laugh. “Really?”
“What?”
“I never took you as a sci-fi geek.”
“I’m not. I just…” I shrug, wincing when I jostle Owen’s hand. “I like the idea that this world is just a computer simulation. That it’s possible to warp it, if you know how, and that ultimately, nothing we do here really matters.”
There’s a beat of silence as Owen stops untangling the brush. “That’s fucking bleak,” he mutters.
“Yeah, well, you asked.”
I drive as fast as I dare, and a few minutes away from campus Owen finally gets the bristles extricated from my hair. As I turn to thank him, he throws the brush deep into the forest.
“Hey! Why’d you do that?”
“That thing wasn’t doing you any favors.”
I gape at him. “You can’t just go around throwing other people’s shit away.”
“The operative word here beingshit.” He looks at my hair. “Buy a new one.”
“Oh, sure, I’ll just pop off to the closest Walmart and get myself a new brush. Thanks, Owen. You’re so fucking considerate.”
He grunts. “Jesus, fine,I’llbuy you a new fucking brush.”
“Yes, you will.” I swerve around a fallen branch blocking half of the roadway, and Owen grabs hold of the side of the roof, throwing me a wary look.
“You didn’t even thank me,” he says.
“Forthrowing away my brush?” I know I’m disproportionately pissed off, but seriously, this guy needs a massive attitude adjustment. And since everyone seems to walk on eggshells around him, I guess the burden lands on my shoulders.
“For making you presentable.”
I swipe away his hand when he reaches for my tie, but he still manages to tug it out from behind my collar. “Thefuck?”
“I’m sorry, is that how you think your bow is supposed to look?” He drops the satiny strip of fabric to the seat between us. “Suit yourself.”
