“So, they went snorkeling in a shark’s playground.”
Deiss makes a sound with his tongue that signifies his agreement.
My eyes widen. It occurs to me for the first time that this is not an entry-level trip into the world of vacations. I’ve been so focused on catching up to my friends that I never stopped to consider where I was going to end up. I have spent the entirety of my adult life doing everything in my power to curate my existence. Not once have I considered inserting sharks into the picture.
“Do you think they’re okay?”
“Phoebe and Simone should be fine, but Mac’s probably worth worrying about. Since his brain is made of the same material as jellyfish, the sharks are definitely going after him first.”
I nod. “So, you could’ve hidden behind him.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But the last girl I dated tried to set my pants on fire while I was wearing them. Ever since then, I’ve had a real phobia of biters.”
I search him for signs of a teasing smile, but Deiss’s eyes don’t leave the road. It’s impossible to tell if he’s kidding or serious. I can’t imagine Lucas Deiss arguing with anyone, much less a woman. It requires an energy I’ve never seen him exhibit.
In my search for signs that he’s kidding, my eyes get stuck on his mouth again. I suppose I should feel lucky that he’s kept it hidden for all these years. It’s so distracting. Certainly, my grades would have suffered if my professors had been in competition with this.
“What about you?” His question causes my eyes to jerk back toward the windshield. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice. “Any phobias?”
“Do I have any phobias?” I turn back toward him, too surprised to worry about his mouth trap. “What’s happening right now? Are you actually trying to make small talk?”
He gives a rare, genuine laugh that I feel through my whole body.
“I kind of was,” he admits. “Is it that obvious I don’t have much practice with it?”
“I’ve known you for eleven years, Deiss. It doesn’t have to be obvious. I’m fully aware you’re not one for idle conversation.”
“But in the last eleven years, I haven’t been trapped in a car with someone for three hours.”
“How flattering to hear that you feel trapped with me.”
He glances over with a grin, and I catch a glimpse of my face in his glasses. I look absurd, like I’m not just amused but could actually be on the verge of giggling. It’s disconcerting, like looking into a mirror and finding my neighbor’s face instead of mine. It’s the lack of sleep that has knocked my mask crooked.
Since the moment I said no at work, something strange has been happening inside me. There’s this little ember of rebellion smoldering in my belly. It’s why I watched movies and read novels on the plane instead of listening to my informative podcasts. It’s the reason I opted for the regular in-flight meal over the vegetarian one. And I think it might be why five flights over the course of two days actually felt fun instead of the nightmare it could’ve been.
“It’s not like I’m planning to tuck and roll out mid-highway,” he says. “I’m just saying it did occur to me that it might be weird if we sat in silence all afternoon.”
“Well.” I pause thoughtfully. “You’ve spent a lot of time with women. What do you talk to them about?”
“Surprisingly little, actually.”
I groan, but without the disgust I’d feel for anyone else. I don’t see Deiss enough to have any personal evidence of what his dating life is like, but I gather it’s similar to how it was back at school, active but fleeting. Phoebe lives within walking distance of him, and she claims she’s yet to be introduced to anyone special.
“Do you care about anything other than music?” I ask.
“Again, I have to admit, surprisingly little.”
I laugh. “I suppose if we had anything in common, we would’ve discovered it by now.”
“Most likely,” he agrees. “Do you want to tell me all about your life?”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know. Past, present, and desires for the future?”
I shudder. “Definitely not. And I know you’re not going to tell me about your past, but do you want to update me on your present or future?”
“The very idea has me rethinking the tuck-and-roll plan.”
“Noted.” I peer up at the endless sky. “It always creeps me out when people refer to themselves in the third person,” I say finally. “Could that be considered a phobia?”