“Your sister seems fun.”
“No, she’s usually a pain in the arse. Headstrong and has a no-nonsense personality.”
“I get along with that type. My cousin is that way and we’re close…” I trail off as a tendril of sadness splashes inside me. “Were close.”
“I assume you left her behind, too?”
“I didn’t leave her behind. We’re just…on different sides of the battle.”
“Battle. Interesting terminology.”
I clear my throat, needing to derail his attention. He’s like a cat with a mouse, once he sees a chance to strike, he won’t hesitate to use it. “Do you listen to anything aside from Metallica?”
“I used to listen to Slipknot, Megadeth, and Iron Maiden when I was a teenager. Dad used to be fussy because I went to sleep and woke up with loud metal music in my ears.”
“You don’t do that anymore?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
“In law school, I didn’t really listen to much music and it just extended to after I passed the bar and started working.”
“I don’t understand how someone can move on from music. It’s what helps me concentrate better.”
“I know that.”
“You do?”
“You usually have earbuds in when you’re working. I also know you listen to vintage music.”
“Are you a stalker?”
“I prefer professional watcher, just like you.”
“M-me?”
“Yeah, beautiful. I know you come to watch me sometimes.”
My cheeks are burning hot. “I do not.”
“We have glass walls, in case you haven’t noticed, and that means I can see you through them.”
I stare down at my lap. “I…wasn’t there for you.”
“Uh-huh. Your denial is adorable.”
I glare at him. “Don’t call me adorable.”
“Well, you are. Deal with it.” He motions at my phone. “Why do you like vintage music?”
“I’m an old soul that way. I like historical novels, music from decades ago, and everything vintage.”
“But you’re in IT.”
“An old soul with a futuristic mindset.”
The corners of his lips curve in a smile before it spreads all over his face. “I like that.”
My breath catches and it takes me a few tries to swallow it down. Hearing him say he likes that while smiling makes me think that maybe he likes me.
And that’s just stupid.
If there’s anything Knox has proved thus far, it’s that whatever is between us is only sexual, so I better kill that small voice whispering inside me.
“What’s your favorite band?” he asks.
“I don’t really have one.”
“Come on, everyone does.”
“Guns N’ Roses, I guess. They make me feel powerful.”
“You mean their music does.”
“What’s the difference?”
He’s poker-faced as he says, “There’s one. It’s their music, not the men in the band.”
“No clue about the logic in that, but whatever.”
We continue eating in silence, listening to the music and stealing peeks at each other. Or I am, anyway. Knox watches me openly, periodically narrowing his eyes on me and pursing his lips as if he disapproves of something.
“What?” I ask when he continues doing it.
“I want to see your real eyes.”
“W-what?”
“The blue ones. And don’t even dare say these are real. Without the glasses, they look fake as fuck.”
“I…can’t.”
“Why not? I already know your real name and what you look like.”
“Just…no.”
“Why?”
“Because…I don’t like it. Just like you don’t like looking into my eyes during sex. Do you see me asking about that?”
“Who told you I don’t like looking at your eyes?”
“Well, you’ve always fucked me or touched me from behind. Isn’t that indication enough?”
“I prefer that position.”
“And I prefer having these eyes.”
A muscle tics in his jaw and I expect him to insist, but he does something entirely different.
His voice lowers when he speaks. “I don’t like fucking from the front. It makes me feel less in control and brings back dark shadows from a past I like to keep buried.”
I’m suddenly hyperaware of the tension floating between us, as if he summoned it and its sole purpose is to suffocate us both.