Glancing at the thick leather bracelet on his arm, I snort. “Here I thought I had you totally pegged.”
“I’m not saying I’d be opposed to any of them.” His teeth gleam in the darkness behind his flickering smile. “It’s just that my parents kept me pretty sheltered. I haven’t been out much.”
I lift my head from my knees. “It can’t be that bad.”
He glances at the ground before shrugging, as if I’ve hit a sore subject. “We crossed the Minnesota border a few times. Otherwise I’ve never been out of the state.”
“Wow,” I say, thinking of all the vacations I’ve been on with my family. “So no rides on a jet plane?”
“Nope. The most excitement I’ve had involved the public bus.”
“You can file that accomplishment under lame. If you’re attempting to procure a list of more invigorating caliber, I’d definitely add conquering the skies. Once you’ve arrived in a new airport and walked into a city you’ve never seen, one begins to feel pretty invincible. Everything about traveling puts your senses on a new level.” I lock my fingers around my legs and sigh dreamily. “The millions of people, the ever changing scenery and sights to explore, the fluctuation of weather, even the choices of restaurants. I can’t ever get enough. You know the saying: once you’ve flown through the skies, you never want to walk on the ground.”
“Don’t think I’ve heard that one.”
I wink. “That’s because I just made it up.”
His eyes bore into me with heightened interest. Again, I feel as if he’s undressing me with a simple look. And I really wish we could cut to the chase so he actually would. “I take it you travel a lot?”
“My dad’s a pilot for Delta. I’m kind of like the B version of an Army brat. You know, gets to see the world, only we don’t actually ever move.”
“Who needs college? Sounds like you’re on your way to becoming a travel agent.”
Giggling, I say, “I could be yours, anyway.”
Our eyes catch with the double meaning of my words. After a strangely comfortable pause, he says, “What else do you think I should add to this list?”
“Well, you have to experience a rock concert from the front row. Nothing too crazy though. You need black belt training to conquer the mosh pit.”
His lips tilt in amusement. “You like the kind of music where there are mosh pits?”
“It all depends on the level of idiots you’re dealing with. The biggest jackholes usually make an appearance at the heavier rock concerts. I’ll only go to those if one of my big guy friends comes as our bouncer. My friend was nearly flattened last summer at Lollapalooza.”
“Sounds like you have no business being in a mosh pit. You must weigh, what, a hundred pounds soaking wet?”
I glance down at my fit frame, blushing. Though I rocked the cheerleader’s uniform in high school, I’ve packed on a lot of muscle. I like to run with Kelly to stay in shape, and even did a few 5k runs freshman year. I was lucky enough to get my mom’s high metabolism and been able to eat whatever I want and still stay in a size 4, except for the time when I packed on the freshman 15.
Looking back up at him, I roll my eyes. “At least we know you can exclude a career in professional weight guessing at the carnival.”
His head tilts back with a deep chuckle. Then he’s pinning me down with his sexy stare again. “So what kind of concert would you recommend?”
“For you? What do you listen to?”
“Whatever’s on the radio.” When my jaw drops, he laughs. “What? My parents listened to a lot of jazz and blues when I was a kid. That’s all the musical influence I ever got.”
“Dude.” I throw my hands out to my sides. “Your parents seriously sheltered you.
Child services should’ve been notified of the travesty.”
He gives another easygoing shrug. “I’m open to anything.”
I huff as if he personally offended me by not having any special taste in music. “Fine.
I’d start out with some Bastille or Mumford and Sons. Everyone likes that shit.” Grinning, I add, “Or we could take you to New Orleans to hear the kind of music you’re more familiar with.”
“Okay, fine.” He bites the inside of his cheek like he’s trying not to smirk, like he’s letting me know he’s taking this seriously. It makes him drop dead sexy. “What about zip-lining? Is that something you’ve tried?”
Laughing, I nod. “I was tricked into going a few years ago when we were visiting Arizona. They told me we were going spelunking when they handed us helmets. I’m scared to death of heights, but I’m telling you, there’s nothing like floating through the air at fifty feet off the ground. I don’t know if it’s the fear of plunging to my death or what, but it’s quite the trip. I’d definitely take you white water rafting, too.”