String the Player

3.

"Did it also make you realise crashing a private party warrants consequences?"

"I guess I'm just going to have to trust you not to rat me out."

He chuckles. It's a deep-throated rumble that doesn't even feel like it's coming from his mouth. "I'll just add that to the favour tally."

"Favour tally?"

"Yeah. One for saving your life, and now this."

I laugh. "Saving my life?"

"You said it yourself. If I didn't intervene, who knows what ideas you might've ended up with."

Now that you mention it, I'm coming up with way too many ideas. I turn front and drop my legs once more. "Thank you. You sure they're not going to miss you back there?"

He hums and takes another swig. "We've got time."

"Oh yeah? How long? A man like you goes missing, I'm pretty sure someone's bound to notice." Yes, I'm flirting with a total stranger four hundred feet above ground and putting my barely there career at very high risk. Sue me.

He scoffs, but his dimples are out. "You're smooth."

"I try."

"And straightforward."

"Is that bad?"

"Yes." Seems like I'm not the only one who is. "But I like it."

And the fluttery feeling is back. My toes curl in my shoes, and warmth spreads throughout my body. I can't believe I'm giddy because some dude said he likes me.

"Why do you think it's bad?" he asks after a while.

I shrug one shoulder. "No one likes being told their flaws right to their face."

He nods like what I said is acceptable. "I know what you mean."

"How so?"

He quirks a brow. Whatever cracks I had seen prior are slowly repairing themselves. The impassiveness makes a return. "Asking a lot of questions. It's starting to feel like you're trying to get to know me."

The words spill from my mouth before I can stop them. "Maybe I am."

"I don't do that," he says it like its final.

So, of course, I push it. "You saved my life, it's only fitting I get to know who my knight in shining armour is."

He side-eyes me. I just grin.

"Not really," he says. "But okay, I'll allow it. Besides, it's a two-way street. Even I want to know the distressed damsel I've saved."

"I'm down. Shoot your shot, Sir Dan."

This has trouble written all over it, but how much worse can it get? I'm sitting on a ledge and am about to air out my entire life to a stranger right when the public is beginning to get interested in me. The problem here is he's interesting too, and for one night, just one fucking night, I don't want to slap on a smile and glide through my uneasiness.

"Nothing?" I ask, my hands turn sweaty and have a slight tremble to them. I stuff them under my thighs.

"You're an impatient one. Give me a sec. I'm eliminating all the boring shit."

"The boring shit?"

"Yeah. Like age, hometown, dreams, all that. I want the dirt."

I look at him with mock horror. "Should I be scared?"

"Maybe. You asked for it."

"Yep, I'm afraid."

"Backing out already?"