"Come on," Lilah growled, rolling onto her stomach. "It's not brain surgery."
"Okay, 60 Minutes," I finally offered after way too much thought for such a benign question.
Julia cleared her throat and eyed me.
I exhaled, wishing she didn't know me so well. "Fine. True Blood," I muttered into my soda can. "I like vampires and True Blood is my favorite TV show, okay? I loved it till I hated it."
"That's it?" Lilah sneered. "That's what took you so long?"
"Interesting dichotomies," Henry said to me. "I loved it till I hated it," he quoted. "Elaborate."
I liked the way he was leaning forward, almost on the edge of his seat. He certainly had a way of making it feel like he and I were the only ones in the room, just like that night at the party when we'd talked for the first time. I hadn't forgotten how that made me feel … caught off guard, but in a pleasant, curious way. He was making me feel a lot of new things lately.
But we weren't the only ones in the room now.
"I wasn't dichotomizing," I said. "Merely speaking facts."
"What's your answer, Henry?" Julia asked.
"Seinfeld," he said, propping his feet on the coffee table. The gray, taupe, and blue diamonds on his argyle socks matched the navy blue V-neck sweater he was wearing. We all looked at him, surprised by his answer. "It's the thinking man's sitcom. Timeless. Even in syndication heaven."
Huh. Who knew?
I also learned that Dart used to row crew at Duke until he tore his shoulder. In addition, his likes were: walks on the beach, tennis whites, and John Mayer. Coincidentally, so were Julia's. Or maybe that was no coincidence. Maybe they were one of those gaggy perfect couples. The only thing they seemed to not have in common was PDA. While Dart was willing to show his affection at any time, Julia was the sweet and bashful type. Though if I had to bet, I was sure she let loose when they were alone.
"Favorite song to sing in the shower?" was the next question on the table.
"I don't sing," I stated.
"Neither do I."
This answer from Henry brought loud hoots from Dart. "You lie, man!"
Henry's stern expression held fast as he glowered at his housemate.
"I've actually been getting a little more sleep these past few mornings," Dart went on, "without you making your normal morning racket."
Henry actually flushed. "I said I don't-"
"You do! Personally, I enjoy your rendition of ‘Put A Ring On It.'"
"Dude," Henry muttered, dropping his chin, massaging the back of his neck.
"But I believe you're most impressive when you hit the high notes of ‘Livin' on a Prayer.'"
"I think … " Henry said. "I think we should move on."
Dart stretched his arm toward Henry, hand in a fist. Henry only regarded it impassively. "Dude … " Dart coaxed. Henry leered at the extended olive branch, laughed under his breath, then bumped fists with his best friend.
"Favorite piece of classical music?" This was my question. I found it interesting when asked in the right company and when answered honestly. Actually, I'd run out of questions. Henry was up to answer first, but he didn't right away, so I answered for him. "Clair de Lune. Right?"
"How can you possibly guess something like that?"
"Elementary." I took a swig of Diet Coke. "Put ten men in a room and play ten different pieces of classical music, six will say Clair de Lune is their favorite. There was an actual study." I gave Henry a look. "At Duke, maybe."
He folded his arms. "Rudimentary research," he accused, but I could tell he was trying not to smile.
"I don't disagree." I pulled up my feet to sit cross-legged. "It's the same theory if you were to ask those same ten men what their favorite flower is. Seven will say iris, but only if you show them a picture."
Dart seemed confused at first, but nodded in agreement after thinking it through, probably picturing an iris. "Yeah," he said. "She's right about that one, too" He pulled Julia close. "I love irises, sweetie." He kissed her temple. "How do you know that, Spring? Another research project?"
"Sort of," I said. "Men can't help it, they're naturally attracted to the iris flower because it looks exactly like the inside of a woman's-"
"Spring," Julia cut me off. A moment later, however, she pressed her lips together and laughed under her breath. Dart was watching her, looking confused but amused. The subtle subconscious connection evidently hadn't occurred to him yet. Henry, though, was chuckling heartily into both hands.
"Three guilty pleasures?" Julia asked, then she and Dart gave their answers and cuddled. Lilah sneered out something about Amsterdam.
While pondering on the subject, I ran my index finger along the top of my can. Three guilty pleasures? If I was going to be honest, this would take some thought.
"Sports/Talk radio," I began, counting off the answers on my fingers. "Strawberry frosted Pop Tarts, and novels."
"French novels?" Henry asked.
"Gross-no." I cringed at the insinuation.
"Not those kinds. I meant like the one you were reading when we ate breakfast together at the café."
This caught Lilah's attention. She dropped her cell, sat up and glared at me. Her acrylic fingernails were like claws as they dug into the knees of her designer jeans.
"British," I explained. "Nineteenth century."
"What's your favorite?" Henry asked.
"Why?"
"I'd like to know."
"More of your polite conversation?" I asked, tilting my head. "Nothing else to do because it's raining?"
Henry laughed and leaned forward. "You remember me saying that?"
"Kind of hard to forget."
Lilah had risen onto her knees, glancing from Henry to me then back at Henry like she was watching a tennis match.
"So?" Henry prompted. "What's your favorite book?"
"The Scarlet Pimpernel," I answered, trying to ignore Lilah's icy glares, which was difficult, as I could actually feel them. "What's yours?"
"To Kill a Mockingbird. Why The Scarlet Pimpernel?"
We needed to move on before Lilah really did stab me, but I didn't think Henry would let us until I gave an answer. "Well, for one reason, I like how it mocks the evil of the bourgeoisie."
"You have a problem with the wealthy social class?" he asked. "Maybe it was the French revolutionists who needed to be mocked."
"Ha! Talk about oversimplification." I folded my arms. "It was the aristocrats who caused the war. Those people were excessively concerned with respectability and success and money." I looked directly at Henry. "Sound familiar?"
He shrugged. "That's no crime. It was how ten generations were taught to live."
"And that's an excuse? Wait, let me guess, that was how you were taught to live."
He took a beat. "I learned a lot from my father."
Even from across the room, I could see he was trying not to smile. Deliberately pushing my buttons, and enjoying it. "Ya know what, never mind." I threw my hands in the air.
"Are you declaring defeat?" Henry asked. "Again?"
I felt a flush creep across my cheeks. "There are other people in the room," I said after clearing my throat. "I'm sure they're not interested in this dysfunctional conversation."
"I am," Dart said.
"Me, too," echoed Julia. "You guys are more entertaining than The Real Housewives."
I sighed. "Have you even read the book?" I asked Henry, more calmly.
"He doesn't read novels anymore," said Dart. "French or otherwise."
"Anymore?" I asked, picking up on that word. "But you said To Kill a Mockingbird. Why is that your favorite? Or was?"
Henry didn't answer right away. His elbows were on the arms of his chair, his fingers under his chin. After a few long moments, I thought that maybe he didn't want to share his answer. Maybe it was something personal. But how could that be? It was just a story.
"I think enough top secret information has been divulged tonight," I said, breaking the silence. "I'm done playing."
"About time," Lilah muttered. "Henry, want to watch a movie?"
"My mother read it when she was a teenager," Henry said, picking a piece of lint off his lap. "To Kill a Mockingbird. The day she accepted my father's proposal, she gave him a copy and told him that Atticus Finch is the kind of father she wants her husband to be."