Kiss and Don't Tell(32)

And then my eyes land on the chairs, well—chair.

“I thought you said there were two chairs out here?”

He scratches the back of his head. “There were.” He studies the large chair and then says, “It’s big enough for two people, that’s unless you’re disgusted by me and can’t have me that close.”

Disgusted? More like dangerously attracted.

Nervous I might involuntarily lick his neck if he’s too close.

Or try to lift up his shirt unknowingly.

Not saying anything, I walk over to the half-egg-shaped chair with navy-blue cushions and take a seat, giving him plenty of room to sit next to me so our legs won’t touch. Not that I would mind if they did but, you know, just to stay safe . . . since apparently my brain is having all sorts of dirty thoughts.

As he takes a seat, he says, “So, not disgusted by me, then.”

“Barely above repulsive. Consider yourself lucky.”

He sips his cider and says, “I do.”

I bring the cider to my lips to hide my grin, because when he makes little comments like that, it makes me think he’s flirting. But there’s no way someone like Pacey Lawes is flirting with me. He’s just a nice guy. Someone who goes out of their way to make you feel good. He admitted it himself—he’s good at reading people.

“So, you going to crack that door open a bit?” he asks as we both stare out at the mountains.

“What door?” I ask. “My bedroom door?”

“Nah, the door you’re hiding behind. You know enough about me, thanks to the Internet, but I know nothing about you. Don’t you think it’s fair that you give me a little something?”

“I don’t see how your celebrity status should hinder my ability to continue to be a mystery.”

He nudges my foot. “Humor me.”

“Why so interested, Pacey Lawes?”

He sighs and leans against his side of the chair. “Truth?”

“Always.” I smirk.

“Besides the fact that I’m genuinely curious about your adventure and I think you’re incredibly interesting, I just have this feeling I know you from somewhere and it’s driving me crazy.”

“You think you know me?” My hand falls to his leg as excitement bubbles up in me. “Oh my God, do you think we knew each other—”

“Please don’t say in another life.”

“—in another life,” I say.

He groans and sucks down a large gulp of his cider. “No. I don’t believe in that shit.”

“Seriously? You don’t think that we were secret agents in another life? Fighting crime and high-fiving once we solved the crime?”

He blinks a few times and then says, “Not even a little.”

“That’s upsetting.” I sip my cider. “But I will say I felt you were familiar, as well.”

“Really?”

I nod. “Yeah, your mannerisms seem familiar, but I can’t place it.”

He shifts in his seat. “Then, we should get to know each other. Maybe we can solve the mystery. Go ahead, tell me one thing you’re good at.”

“One thing?”

“Yeah, and then we’ll go from there.”

“Pushing your luck, Pacey.”

“We have a mystery to solve, so I’ll push as much as I find necessary. Now stop avoiding, and give me the goods.”

I laugh. “Okay. Umm . . . one thing I’m good at . . . I would have to say I’m really good at Jenga.” I hold my hand out to him. “Steady hand. See?”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think you’re good at Jenga?”

“Umm, my winning record?”

“I see. Have you ever played a Jenga master?”

I turn toward him. “Are you calling yourself a Jenga master?”

“If the shoe fits.” He sips his cider again.

“Oh wow, okay, this needs to be settled.”

“One step ahead of you.” He stands from the egg seat and says, “Be right back.”

He sets his cider down and jogs back through the bushes. While I wait for him to come back, I pull my knees against my chest and stare out at the beautiful mountains. What is this insane life I’m living right now?

I’m sharing a moment with a complete stranger, and yet, it feels . . . right.

This all feels right, even though Katherine thinks I’ve lost my mind. None of this feels scary or as if something out of a horror film is going to happen.

Almost as if this was meant to be. All of this was meant to be. Now I just need to figure out why.

And Pacey is right—I think there is a connection between us, but we just can’t seem to figure it out.

Pacey reappears with a table and a box of Jenga blocks.

“Should I be worried?” I ask.

“If I were you, I would be.” He sets the table down and says, “I grabbed the box that has the questions on the blocks.”

“Questions?”

“Yup.” He preps the game. “On certain blocks, there are questions, and before you put it on top, you have to answer the question. If you choose not to answer, you have to repeat your turn.”

“Ooh brutal.” I get closer to the table and set my cider down in the grass. “I think I can handle it, though.”