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She rolls her eyes. Enjoys her ice cream. I find myself studying the flick of her tongue.
“I’m just trying to get to know you,” I tell her.
“Okay.” She shifts, elbow on the table, fully facing me now. “Ask me something.”
“What do you want to do?”
She cocks her head. “Professionally?”
“Like…with your life. What’s important to you?”
“That is a question, isn’t it?” She thinks, working over her ice cream. “I want to do something with music. Produce, maybe. Or write.”
“You don’t want to sing?”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s the behind-the-scenes stuff that interests me.”
“Can’t take the limelight?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Not really.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
She squints at me skeptically. “What do you mean?”
“You hide,” I tell her. “In books. Or you put those giant headphones on and hide in those. You’re always…hiding.”
She rolls her eyes. “Or maybe you’re always soaking up the spotlight.”
“Seems like we could learn something from each other, huh?”
That at least gets a small laugh from her. “Maybe.”
She screws up her mouth, and her eyes flicker over me as though examining.
“What?” I finally ask, feeling like I’m under a microscope.
“It’s just…strange. One-on-one? You’re not so bad.”
“Thanks. I think.”
But she keeps staring, that inquisitive look in her eyes. Finally, she comes out with “Why do you bully Donovan so much?”
Of all the questions, I wasn’t expecting that one. “We’re just having fun,” I tell her.
“Fun? Do you think Donovan thinks it’s fun?”
I snort on a laugh. “C’mon. You two are hardly innocent, Trouble.”
“It’s different.”
“Is it?” I challenge.
She frowns but doesn’t say anything more on the subject.
16
Kenzi
