AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“So can we play that game then?” she says hopefully.
“No.”
She lets out a disgruntled noise. “Please?”
“How do you know about that game anyway?”
She turns to me for a quick second before saying, “I researched ‘fun things to do on a road trip’ and it came up.”
“Savvy,” I say, crossing my arms and staring into the distance.
“Look Bastian, we are going to be spending a few more weeks together. Might as well get to know each other,” she says sternly.
I would rather saw off my left foot with a butter knife than play two truths and a lie. But I roll my eyes and find myself conceding anyway. There’s just something about Lucy that makes me not want to deny her, maybe it’s knowing how dire her life was before we got her out… maybe it’s something else entirely.
“Fine, you start,” I concede.
Her smile sends a warm trickle down my spine.
It irks me.
I would rather stay cold.
She falls into a concentrated silence before she finally speaks again.
“Okay, ready?” she asks, as if I need some major preparation time in order to play this dumb game. I nod. “I once had a dog named Molly, I am a Sagittarius, and I have a fear of frogs.”
“I’m surprised you know about astrology,” I say instead of guessing the lie.
“Lenix is really into it.”
“Should have known,” I mumble.
“Now guess,” she says much too animatedly.
I slide my gaze toward the driver’s seat, studying her.
“You don’t have a fear of frogs,” I finally say.
She barks out a laugh. “I do, actually. It is called ranidaphobia,” she says with a side grin. “I looked it up.”
I swipe my hand over my face, trying to hide the small smirk appearing on my lips. “Why frogs?”
“Their wet skin unnerves me.” She shivers in mock disgust. “My brother used to trap them when we were young and he would run after—” Her voice dies down, her face turning serious. Her expression feels conflicted as if she caught herself remembering a sweet memory that has now turned sour.
After a beat, I say, “You mean your brother Frederick?” The religious freak who became the leader of Sacro Nuntio when their father died.
I seem to snap her out of her reverie, and she gives me a quick look before staring straight ahead, forcing a grin on her lips.
“Anyway, I never owned a dog,” she says, ignoring my question. “Okay, now your turn.”
I don’t press her, and think through what I’ll say, instead. I can practically feel Lucy’s anticipated glee beside me.
“I’ve been shot five times, my middle name is Jared, and I hate this game.”
Her laugh is bright, but she ignores my not-so-subtle dig.
“You have not been shot five times,” she says with too much assurance.
