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I shrug. “What about?” My stomach clenches tightly, souring as I contemplate being forced to reveal my darkest secrets to him.
He returns my shrug, perfectly at ease. He’s so laid back. “I don’t know. Whatever you want to talk about. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so I think it’d be a good idea for us to get to know each other better. I’ll go first.” He pauses a moment as if collecting his thoughts. “I like classic rock and sci-fi movies. My favorite food is steak, but pizza is a close second. My favorite flavor of ice cream is chocolate. I drive a black Dodge Challenger. What about you?”
“A Dodge Challenger? That’s very old school. You like muscle cars.”
He grins. “Guilty. Now it’s your turn.”
I’m swamped with relief. He’s not asking for anything hard. “Um, my tastes in music are pretty eclectic, but I have a soft spot for singer/songwriters from the seventies, like Carole King and James Taylor. I guess that kind of makes me old school, too. My favorite food is Mexican—I think Taco Tuesday should be a national holiday—but I’m with you on pizza. My favorite ice cream flavor is Neapolitan, but I have to be careful with ice cream. It sends my blood sugar levels through the roof. I’m a type 1 diabetic—a T1D—but you probably already know that.”
He nods. “I do. But that’s cheating.”
“What is?”
“Picking Neapolitan as your favorite flavor. That’s not just one flavor—technically it’s three. You’re getting chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry all in one. I call cheating.”
I try not to smile. “Okay, then. Strawberry. But it has to be real strawberry, not fake.”
“That’s better. I like sci-fi and paranormal shows, likeThe Twilight ZoneorSupernatural.”
“See? You’re old school. You probably prefer the originalStar Warsmovies over the newer ones.”
He nods. “Yep. Guilty. What about you?”
“I like paranormal shows too, and superheroes. And medical shows, likeGrey’s Anatomy. My favorite TV series of all time is probablyStranger Things. I could relate to Eleven—being different, feeling out of place, like she didn’t belong.”
He nods. “Good one. I could have saidStranger Things, too”
He’s so easy to talk to, not at all what I expected. Sean was always trying to show off, to impress me, or make me feel stupid. Jason’s pretty chill, and I don’t feel like he’s judging me.
“Do you want to tell me about your insulin pump and glucose monitor?” he asks.
“I have an Omnipod.” I lay my hand on my torso, to the right of my belly button, where my insulin pump is currently located. Then I point to the left side of my belly. “The Dexcom monitor is here.”
He frowns. “I know your kidnappers removed your pod and glucose monitor.” His voice is quiet, gentle. “I’m so sorry, Layla.”
I shrug. “They probably didn’t even know what the devices were for.”
“And they didn’t give you any food or water?”
I shake my head. “They forced me to drink alcohol, and they shot me up with drugs. Mostly sedatives, I think. To shut me up.”
“God, they could have killed you.”
“When the EMTs arrived, my sugar levels were dangerously low. They injected me with glucagon to raise my blood sugar level.”
“As your bodyguard, I’ll be monitoring your glucose levels.” He pulls out his phone and shows me the Dexcom app. “I’m already set up to access your glucose monitor. I might as well get into the habit, right?”
“Sure.”
The corners of his lips quirk up. “Please don’t sound so enthusiastic.”
An unexpected snort escapes me as I’m caught off guard by his droll sense of humor. I’ve only talked to the guy for half an hour, and he’s already got me laughing. That’s a surprise.
Is it wishful thinking on my part to wonder if my new bodyguard might not be so bad after all?
Yes, you idiot.
You shut up.
