“We eat ourselves. We’re so hungry we … eat ourselves.” He starts moving his knee, as if gently bouncing to some song in his head. “Yeah. I think that’s what it means. Except I don’t got no tail,” he throws at me, turning his head and flashing a sexy, teasing smile.
Just his face melts all of my insides. His dimples convert my guts into a steamy broth that both feels like home and like somewhere frighteningly unfamiliar and exotic. His eyes—like the sky at noon without a single cloud in it—dive so deeply into me that I fear for a moment he can see my every truth, even the ones I’m too scared to see myself.
Of course, on my exterior, all Brant really sees is what anyone sees: a woman who’s turned to ice—emotionless, bitter, and with an invisible shell as hard as diamond enclosing me like a second skin.
“So, is this a game show?” I throw back at him, though my voice is softer. “You guess what my work means and I give you a prize?”
The joke encourages him, his smile growing. “What kind of prize do I get? You gonna take your top off?”
I swallow a chuckle, pressing my lips together tight so as not to laugh. Damn it, Nell. Remember who he is. “Nope.”
“Good idea. Make me wait.” He winks. “Then a kiss, maybe?”
“Nope.” I fold my arms.
His eyes flick down to my breasts for a moment. I guess folding my arms just brought them into focus. When he returns his gaze to mine, he says, “I’m probably wrong about your drawing anyway, aren’t I?”
I purse my lips, studying him for a long moment. Then, I finally give in. “If I’m totally honest, I never quite know what my drawings mean.” I come around to his other side, trying to see my deranged cat with objective eyes. It’s always so hard to do.
“So it was a trick challenge?”
“Maybe,” I admit.
“Settin’ me up to fail?”
“Probably.”
I continue to inspect my work, noticing a spot where I could shade under the food bowl better. I also take a mental note of a part of the tail where the fur looks too perfect and needs some fussing up.
I realize he hasn’t said anything for a moment. I glance up, only to find Brant no longer looking at the drawing. His blue eyes are glued to mine instead.
The sudden intimacy makes me recoil in fear, yet my body doesn’t seem to move. I’m frozen in place, hypnotized.
Brant inhales, then lets it all out slowly, his crystalline eyes never leaving my face. A smile creeps onto his lips just as slowly before he says, “Honestly, I think I’d be pretty much the dumbest guy alive to try and win any game against you.”
“Dumbest ever,” I agree lamely, my gaze lost to his mouth and the silky words coming out from them.
“I mean, really, I ended up chained and nearly naked after losing my last game to you …”
“Cuffed, not chained.” The way his lips move are hypnotic …
“So maybe we should forget all the game playing and … just do this the old-fashioned way.” He swallows so hard, I hear it in his throat. His smile is gone. His hands are back in his pockets and his posture stiffens.
Did shit just get serious?
“Old-fashioned way?” I prompt him.
“Do you want to go out with me, Nell?”
“I …”
Now it’s my turn to swallow hard, blinking at him and completely thrown. My mouth is so dry suddenly. My insides tremble. I can’t even remember the last time I was asked out. Freshman year? High school?
Never?
“Just dinner,” he says. “Nothing else. Maybe. I mean, you know, if I manage to woo you over a nice steak or somethin’, I’m not opposed to getting naked in front of you for the third time. Or is it the fourth?”
“Fourth,” I answer numbly. “Unless you count those black briefs you were wearing at the gallery.”
“Aww, you remembered the color!” he exclaims, his face lighting up.
And my face flushes, frustrated that I let that slip. I grit my teeth, my arms folding tightly.
“Those were one of my gay roommate’s fault, by the way,” he adds quickly. “He insisted that I wear them.”
I’m turned to stone, from my feet to my stomach to even my brain. I can’t seem to trust him, no matter how imploringly those beautiful eyes of his glow. When I look at his gentle, inviting arms, I remember a boy who embraced me long ago and told me he’d never let go—then did. When Brant’s lips spill such sweet words, I hear the same sweet words that a boy once whispered in my ear—and his words were so heartfelt, I was nearly convinced that he meant every one. Even the day my father abandoned me charges forth to shovel more doubt into my fast-filling brain. The pain I harbor for my twin brothers who moved as far away from home as they possibly could hurts anew.