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She doesn’t smile and her eyes narrow, darkening when she turns to me, but it’s not a bad vibe toward Brody or me that I’m getting. Something tells me it links back to Cassian.
“A friend from the academy?” she asks, distaste pulling at the corner of her mouth.
“We’re just here for some food, Leticia. Not to get involved in any Kenner business,” Brody says with a smile, hoping to diffuse whatever threatens to rise, and to my surprise, she sighs, tapping at the device in her hand.
“Whatever. What do you want to eat?”
“Steak, medium rare, and a bottle of house beer,” Brody rattles off. “And for my friend…”
“I’ll take the steak, too, please. Medium, with an orange soda, please.”
“You’re not going to get a drink?” Brody interjects, frowning at me.
“I’m getting an orange soda.”
He waves his hand dismissively. “No, I mean alcohol. It’s your birthday. Celebrating age too. Don’t you want your first drop of liquor at legal age?”
Shaking my head, I turn to Leticia, who is still standing beside us, her irritation palpable. “Just the orange soda, thanks,” I reiterate, and she dashes out of sight a moment later. When I tilt my face back to Brody, I find a questioning look crinkling the corner of his eyes. “I don’t drink. Ever.”
“Like, never?”
Wetting my lips, I slink back in my seat. “Nope.”
“How?” The disbelief is evident on his face, tempting me to feel a lick of embarrassment, but I don’t.
“It doesn’t really matter,” I offer with a smile, hoping to end the conversation, but his stare only deepens.
“Tell me. I want to get to know you.”
This isn’t what I was expecting from him. I was expecting to be taken out drinking or dancing or something that held little to no conversation so he could get me drunk enough to fuck me later.
“I just haven’t. I don’t like the idea of being out of control, I don’t like the thought of hiding from my problems at the bottom of a bottle, and I don’t like the trust you have to put in others to not overstep when you’re in that state.”
He nods, and I can practically see my words turning in his mind. “Fair enough,” he offers, like he understands where I’m coming from, and it leaves me a little surprised. Not that I show it. Instead, I try to redirect the conversation.
“So, tell me about you.”
“There we go, she’s getting into the swing of it now,” he says with a smirk, and I roll my eyes.
“No, I’m just trying to steer the talk away from myself,” I answer honestly. “The fact that we’re in a situation where conversation can even happen is shocking in itself,” I add, and he gapes at me, dramatically slapping his hand to his chest.
“I might be a player, Dagger, but I can get to know you before I fuck you.”
“I think I just threw up in my mouth,” I grumble, clutching my stomach, and he snickers.
“Please, do you want me to lie? Do you want me to sit here and pretend I have pure intentions? Since you stepped out of your room, all I’ve thought about is wrapping your hair around my fist and running my tongue over your tits. There’s nothing wholesome about me, so I’m not going to pretend there is, but I can hold a conversation. If I wanted to fuck limp limbs, I’d give good old Pamela a go,” he states, waving his palm at me to reconfirm his reference.
My thighs press together despite my best efforts.
He’s not affecting me. He’s not affecting me. He’s not affecting me.
“What else should I know about you?” I push, trying to pretend my heart isn’t racing.
“Me? What you see is what you get. I grew up in Foley Hill, I’m hilarious, I don’t care for drama, and I believe in trying to save people. No matter what.” His eyes hit mine and I know he’s referencing the human we helped earlier in the week from another one of Vallie’s tirades.
“Thank you for that,” I breathe, the words foreign on my tongue. I never thank anyone. Not because I’m rude, but because I do what I can, when I can, by myself.
He waves it off. “My father is also Orion Orenda.”
