Not You It's Me

CHAPTER SIX

LIES

"I'll go first."

"Why do you get to go first?"

I ignore his question, clearing my throat and making my voice serious. "Okay, here goes." I tick off my truths on my fingers as I speak. "My middle name is so embarrassing I never tell anyone — even my closest friends. When I was sixteen, I was arrested for climbing the town water tower on a dare, but the police chief decided not to press charges because he thought my mom was hot. And, when I go out on dates or am invited over to someone's place for dinner, sometimes I pretend I'm allergic to broccoli just to get out of eating it."

By the time I'm done, he's shaking his head in amusement. "You're not going to make this easy on me."

"Nope." I narrow my eyes. "I play to win, too."

He inclines his head in acknowledgement. "Good to know."

"You'll never guess it right."

"I don't have to guess." A slow grin spreads across his face. "I already know."

"Big words, Yoda." Total nerd that I am, I contort my voice to resemble the small green Jedi's, not above making myself look like a fool if it means distracting him. "Like to see the follow through, would I."

He grins wider. "Did you just do Yoda-speak?"

"Absolutely not."

"The water tower story — that's your lie."

My mouth falls open. "How did you know?"

He doesn't answer, not about to reveal his secrets and give me an edge.

"I really was arrested for climbing that damn thing." I sigh. "But the police chief didn't think my mom was hot, he was just a nice guy, so he let me go."

"Point one goes to the cocky bastard," he says softly. "My turn?"

I nod.

"I've been to thirty-six countries. I'm fluent in Spanish and Italian, though my French is passable, as well. And I like pancakes, but hate waffles."

"The first one," I say immediately. "No one's been to thirty-six countries."

"You're right. I've been to thirty-seven."

I stare at him for a beat, not knowing what to make of that statement, so instead I just say, "Wait, you hate waffles?"

He chuckles. "Is that a problem?"

"Um, yes." I make my eyes bug out. "Only Satan hates waffles."

"Maybe I'm the devil."

He says it like a joke, but his eyes are so serious it makes me nervous.

"Okay, the score's tied, one-one. My turn." I swallow hard, racking my brain for a good lie. "My favorite flower is the hyacinth. I think the word moist is the grossest in the English language, if you're using it in any context except to describe cupcakes. And I believe there's a special ring in hell for people who don't use their directionals while switching lanes."

His eyes work with thoughts for a few seconds as he weighs my words.

"Hyacinths," he says finally.

"Ugh!" I screech. "You really are Satan, you know that?"

He grins. "What are your actual favorites?"

"Peonies. The great, big, puffy ones that fall apart after about a nanosecond."

His eyes go soft around the edges and he looks like he's storing that fact away in the steel vault that is his mind. "My turn again. And, Gemma, just in case you forgot..." His voice drops low. "I'm winning."