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She nodded, eyeing me suspiciously for a moment. A small smile spread across her beautiful lips. “Yeah? What kind of girl am I?”
Well, that was one hell of a loaded question. I figured being completely honest and telling her she was the hottest and most interesting girl I’d seen in a damn long time would be a bad idea, so I settled on something a little nicer.
“Most of the girls around here are more concerned with clothing labels and hair stylists than being themselves.” I motioned toward her. “You’re yourself. Your face looks like it’s momma-made and not store bought, your hair isn’t bleached to the point it’s about to fall out, and you have books in your hand, so you obviously read. I would assume that means you have a brain. You’re… normal. I’m not used to that around here.”
She stared at me, thinking, then finally she said, “While I’m notentirelysure you’re hitting on me, I get the feeling you are. Which, I’ll be honest, is a little odd given you look like the typical jock type, and I’m a goth girl from hillbilly Indiana. That being said, trying to hit on a girl while telling her just how average she is might not exactly be the best course of action.”
My eyes widened as I thought back over my words.Shit…That was exactly what I’d done. Outlined all the reasons why she wasaverage.
“No, no, no,” I said, my free hand waving in front of my chest defensively. “That’s not what I mean. I’m so sorry.”
Her serious face evaporated as a laugh took her. Her head fell back as she clutched her books. When she looked back at me, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m just messing with you.” She laughed again, and it was a beautiful sound.
I physically relaxed, sighing in relief as I did. Okay… She has a sense of humor.
“I couldn’t help it,” she said. “You made yourself such an easy target.” She shrugged. “I’m more of a ‘big picture’ kind of girl. I look for the deeper message in what someone says. I do that because sometimes, people aren’t very good with words, and they shouldn’t be hated for that. Plus, in my defense, boys—especially of the jock variety—are even worse.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her joke, even though it was obviously at my expense.
Pointing to her stack of books, I said, “Well, reading stacks of books like that at a time, I’d imagine your vocabulary is superior to most. I can see why you’d look for deeper meaning in people’s words. I’m grateful.”
“Oh, yes. These books are full of rich, colorful scenery, romance, and characters. They also have lots of words that have been expertly strung together in complex sentences. Maybe you should pick one up sometime. It might help you flirt a little better.”
My brows rose as a smile spread across my lips. I watched as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Normally, that was a sign of nervousness, but her chin was held high. She was enjoying this, giving me a hard time.
That girl had no idea who I was. No clue I was one of the royals at Crestview. That my presence made people uncomfortable or even afraid. That people would do anything and everything I told them just because of who I was and who I hung around with, not that I would do that.
She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She was flirting—just as Britney had earlier, thoughfarbetter—but it was because shewantedto. Not because she thought it would gain her any kind of clout or status.
Fuck,I liked this more than I could ever imagine.
“Maybe you should let me borrow one of those,” I said, stepping closer.
Her brows narrow. “Yeah? Why would I do that?”
I took another step closer, now standing only a couple of feet away. “Because… I could read it and then have the perfect excuse to see you again when I come to return it.”
She looked impressed as she looked at me with a beautiful smile. “Now, see?Thatwas smooth.” Standing straighter, she says, “Fine. I’ll make you a deal.” She lifts the stack of books a little higher, showing their spines. “If you can tell meanythingabout any of these authors or their books—whether it’s knowing other titles by them or you know what any of these books are about—oryou can tell me anything about that car, I’ll give you my name and number. I’m sure those two things sound wildly unrelated, but I assure you, it’ll tell me everything I need to know about you.”
“Is that so?” I said.
“Yes, because right now, I need more. Judging from your body, you’re a jock. Your clothes tell me you’re rich. And you’re pretty, so you’re probably a dick butverygood at hiding it. You stumbled over your words when we first started talking, so you’re either nervous—which I highly doubt would ever happen to you with a girl like me—or you don’t have a lot of brains and rely on your wallet and face to get you through life. So, to put it bluntly, I want to know if you’re worth talking to. You can either be book smart or mechanically smart. I’m not picky. One’s good with their brains, and the other is good with their hands. Both can be beneficial.”
I stared at her dumbfounded.Wow. No, definitely, absolutely, positively nothing like any of the girls at Crestview. Where thehelldid this girl come from?
Oh, yeah… Indiana.
Looking down at the books, I didn’t recognize any of the names. I stuck to horror mostly. Military fiction and crime, too, though I ventured out some. I saw Colleen Hoover, Ember Michaels, Amanda R. Browning, May Sage, and Jennifer L. Armentrout. Romance, dark romance, and fantasy. That was about the extent of my knowledge of these books, and that was all based on their covers. I knew that wouldn’t fly with her.
Instead of playing her little game, I decided to turn it around on her. She wanted to quiz me, but I wanted to know ifsheknew anything about the car. My bet was no. I’d never met anyone around here outside of a shop or a parts store that knew anything at all about cars. Liking them and thinking they were pretty was one thing but knowing anything about them was something completely different.
Hell, even Britney loved my ’69 Mustang before I sold it.
“Well, I can safely say I don’t know anything about the books or the authors outside of being able to identify their genres by cover only.” I pointed to the car. “But cars? That car specifically?” I smiled. “IguaranteeI know more about that car than you do. That’s a dream car right there.”
She shook her head, but there was a small smile playing on her lips. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jackson, but that was the wrong answer. You were supposed to prove to me you were more than a pretty face and a bank account.”
As she turned to walk away, I quickly moved around her. It had been a long time since I’d chased a girl. “Is that so? You know what I think?” She eyed me curiously, and I continued. “I think you just want to have all the power here.” I smiled. “To be honest, I doubt you know anything about this car. I bet I could tell you anything I wanted, and as long as it sounded technical enough, you’d believe it.”
