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“Whether they break the shower they’re trying to christen.”
“Why would we bet on that?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” He gives me a look that says duh.
“Just out of curiosity, is sex the only thing you talk about?”
“That offends you?” A sly smirk takes over his face.
“No, but I haven’t really heard you talk about anything else.” You’d think it would bother me that he talks about sex so much when that’s not something I’ve been interested in for years, but it really doesn’t. I’m only asking because I’m wondering if it’s that topic or something else entirely that makes me feel different around him.
Obviously, there’s something about his looks that gets to me, but is that a byproduct of this risqué conversation or something else altogether? I’m not sure how to tell the difference without us changing the subject.
“We talked about music and making videos at that concert last year,” he reminds me of one of our earlier encounters, when we bumped into him and Xander at a show. I remember him being flirty then too, but also serious about the video he was hired to make. Mostly.
“You were trying to make the band look sexier on camera than they were in real life.”
“Not my fault that’s what they hired me for.” The grin turns almost bashful.
“Seriously. Tell me something about you that doesn't have to do with your cock.”
He fans his face. “We won’t get far with you saying words like cock out loud.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, and he relents with a throaty laugh. “Okay, okay. What do you want to know?”
Knowing he’ll have something to say about music, I start there. “Favorite band.”
“Current or former?”
“What’s the difference?” I grunt, losing patience.
“Former doesn’t play together anymore and current does.”
“Fine. Former.”
“Queen,” he answers easily.
“Current.”
He rubs a knuckle over the bridge of his nose. “I’m kind of on a Dirty Heads kick right now.”
“Why?”
He lifts a shoulder, drawing attention to the fact he’s still shirtless, and standing a few feet away, I can tell at least one of his tattoos is a rose. Another is something scribbled under the greyscale image of a mountain. “It’s summer, they’re kind of mellow but still upbeat. Easy to skate to.”
“Why skateboarding?”
A shadow crosses his face despite the fact there isn’t a cloud in the sky, though it’s gone so fast I think I imagined it. “It’s uncivilized.”
Although that makes a lot of sense, it’s not the answer I’m expecting, and I get the distinct impression those aren’t actually his words. Before I can follow up, he asks a question of his own. “Why hockey?”
“I’m Canadian.”
“No shit?” He tilts his head to the side as he studies me. “You a citizen now or still on a Visa?”
“I’m a citizen.”
He nods appreciatively, but doesn’t say anything else.
“How’d you meet Xander?” I try to get him talking again.
