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Page 10“Ultron made everyone sad. He was a killer,” I said with a shrug.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say Ultron was a killer…” She laughed nervously, still not getting the reference.
“Iron Man created him for killing.”
“What?” She blinked up at me. “Iron Man doesn’t have a cat.”
“And neither do you.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You just called your dead cat Ultron.”
“That’s not right…” She outwardly cringed. “Odwalla?”
“That’s a drink. You’re actually getting worse at lying the more you talk.”
“Oz.”
“Oscar. Your fake dead cat’s name was Oscar. Ultron wanted to kill the Avengers, big difference.” How does she not know this?
“I’ve never seen The Avengers.”
I slammed on the brakes and gave her a look of complete and utter horror, “Get out of the truck.”
I smirked and hit the gas pedal before she could open the door. “There was no one behind us, and even then we were going twenty-five. To answer your question yes, yes I was willing to get into a minor accident in order to visually express my utter shock and disappointment that you’ve never watched The Avengers.”
She bit her bottom lip, causing it to go slightly white as all the blood left. “Well, I just don’t see what all the fuss is about. I mean they fight each other and save the world, and it always ends up the same.”
“Valid point.” I pulled onto my street. “But the process, four eyes, is always different.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re going to explain it to me aren’t you?”
“Lucky day, isn’t it?”
“That’s not really how I would put it.”
“The process”—I ignored her grumbling protest—“is the most important part, the storyline, the arc, if you will. You saying that The Avengers is the same as every other action movie is just like me saying that songs are all the same. They have notes that make music, and they all end.”
“That’s completely different.”
“The same.” I winked. “The process, however, is different. Get it?”
“I get that marshmallows have addled your brain. And somehow it’s seeped into the air, making it so that I’m just as crazy.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I got in a stranger’s truck. My grandma taught me better than this.”
“You kiss all strangers that way?”
She gasped in horror as her cheeks took on an adorable red hue. “I did not kiss you, you kissed me!”
Fallon stiffened and adjusted her ugly as hell glasses before she reached for the handle of the door again, as if she was trying to melt her body against the side of the car so she could get away from me. Huh, that was a first. Had to admit, I didn’t really care for it. “I like cats too.”
“And yet, you don’t have one, so by that comparison, I’d have to also draw the conclusion that you don’t have a boyfriend you kiss that way either.”
“You have bad manners.”
I barked out a laugh. “Sorry, I swear I’ll treat you like the lady you are.”
She groaned and once again pushed the glasses up her nose.
I put the truck in park and turned it off, then grabbed my stash of marshmallows and walked over to her side of the truck to open the door but she was already hopping out. And when I say hop, I was a bit nervous she was going to fall out of the truck and get a concussion. She wasn’t the most athletic girl I’d ever met, and she was short enough to need a booster seat.
“What?” She crossed her arms protectively over her chest.
I smiled, taking in her askew glasses and nervous lip biting. “Nothing.”
“So, how long am I your prisoner?”
“Three hours.”
“You said two!”
“I changed my mind.”
“Kidnapping would be tossing you over my shoulder while beating my chest and screaming ‘man take woman home!’”
She wasn’t amused.
“This,” I said as I led the way to the beach house, “is friends who kiss, driving to a house so they can kiss some more.”
“Whoa!” She held up her hands.
“Chill.” I winked. “Kidding. I won’t kiss you. Not unless you beg me, and even then I may hesitate on principle alone. After all, you are a lady.”
“I’m not living that one down anytime soon, am I?”
“I was thinking of making wall art,” I said helpfully while she groaned and followed me into the house.
“Wow.” She did a quick turn around and then slowly walked into the open kitchen and living room. “This is yours?”
“Negative.” I quickly pulled off my shirt and tossed it onto the couch. “It’s Jaymeson’s.” My jeans were next, I kicked them to the side and lazily made my way over to my bedroom.
“Oh!” Fallon turned, nearly slamming into me, her hands pressed against my chest and her head lowered. “You’re missing clothes.”
“So it would seem.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.” Her statement was made even more ridiculous by the fact that her brown glasses kept sliding down her nose. Clearly, I’d become desperate. I’d not only kissed a girl who probably had to take her cousin to prom, but by the all-around thickness of her glasses, I was fairly confident she was legally blind. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">