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He’s not looking at me now; he’s staring at the floor, eyes narrowed and lips folded in. He’s seeing Folsom in his mind, and I wonder how close the two of them are.
“Folsom is the reason most of us are okay doing this. He’s got this sense of duty. You know he hates it, but he’s doing it because it’s who he is. He wants to be the solution. He’s the grownup, you know?”
I nod.
“He broke the rules and fell in love with Gwen.” He looks directly at me when he says this, and I hear my own sharp intake of breath. Jackal eyes me curiously.
“A romantic,” he says, surprised.
I yank my hand from his grasp, and his laugh follows me to the bar.
“Nothing to be ashamed of, Phoenix. I like to consider myself a romantic as well.”
“Oh please,” I shoot back. “Mr. Orgy, a romantic? Do you fall in love with everyone you fuck?”
“Lately I’ve been falling for girls I haven’t.”
I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. I press my lips together and glare at him.
“We need to get to work,” I hiss between my teeth.
“But I want to talk to you…”
“Why?”
“Because I like the things you say.”
“This is a dance studio, Jackal, not a shrink’s office.”
“Have you ever seen a shrink?” he asks.
I pause. I have, but I don’t want him to know that. I could list my disorders: eating, personality, mental health…and somehow I feel like even if I did, he wouldn’t flinch.
“Have you?” I shoot back.
His grin is so wide it almost reaches his ears. “Coincidentally, I am one.”
“Bullshit.”
He’s messing with me. He’s trying every angle to get under my skin, and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.
He shrugs. “Do you think this is all I want? That because I’m a man I’m supposed to be content to study pussy all day and not want anything else?”
“So you’re telling me that you have a degree in—”
“A master’s in psychology,” he interrupts me again.
I feign disinterest, straightening my hair in the mirror while casually glancing at his reflection. But the reality is I want to know everything; my tongue is practically curling over the questions I want to ask as I wait for him to say more. But he doesn’t say anything else. I watch, frustrated, as he empties his pockets, whistling jovially like he’s already moved on.
“Why psychology?” I finally ask.
I can hear the exasperation in my own voice. He looks up in surprise. Fake surprise. Okay, fine. Two can play at this game. I lift my leg behind my head casually and watch as his eyes grow just the tiniest bit wider.
“I’m interested in people.”
I want to stomp my foot in frustration. It’s like getting water from a rock. I hold my leg there for another minute before turning my back to him and switching to the other leg. Maybe he is an ass man.
“What about them?” I ask.
