Page 103 of Explosive Prejudice

He took a sip from his drink as I shrugged. “Maybe, but who cares? I’m the only guy you’re allowed to be obsessed with.”

Putting down his soda bottle, he nodded. “You are.”

Satisfied, I clapped my hands. “Let’s play a game.”

Camilo’s face twisted in displeasure, fed up with my shit, and I loved it.

He sighed. “Another one of your games?”

“Come on.” I tapped the table. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fine.” He slid down on his seat and stretched his long legs forward. Our table was too small, making our legs bump repeatedly.

“Tell me five things I don’t know about you.”

“Do I have to?”

Kicking his leg under the table, I urged him. “Shut up and start.”

“Fine. Let’s see.” He rubbed his jaw. “I’m scared of flying.”

“Seriously?” I cut in.

“Yeah.”

My brows knitted close as I looked at him. “How so?”

“What if I get a heart attack on the plane?”

I waved my hand in the direction of his smokes resting on the table. “You smoke a pack a day, and that’s what you’re scared of? A heart attack on a fucking plane?”

Camilo’s jaw tensed. Haha. I was getting on his nerves.

“They can also crash, okay? It’s a metal box that weighs too much. It should be impossible for it to fly.” He sounded defensive.

“Wait until we fly in my private jet. Then you won’t be so afraid of it.”

“Private planes crash, too,” he said bitterly. “Anyway, are you going to let me finish? Or are you going to keep interrupting?”

I chuckled because sometimes Camilo was too cute.

“Go on, I’ll keep my mouth zipped.”

He eyed me suspiciously. “I doubt you can, but fine.” He sighed. “I used to be a soccer fan, but not so much anymore. I tried to quit smoking three times but have failed miserably. There were times I thought I’d be a choreographer, but that seems impossible now, and this is the first date I’ve ever been on.”

Wow… Just wow.

“Why does being a choreographer seem impossible?” I asked.

Rolling his shoulders, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “It’s too far-fetched. I mean, look at my record, at what I do now… the chances for me to be something different are…” He didn’t finish his words, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re already something,” I said firmly. “You’re crazy talented, Camilo. The best dancer I’ve ever seen.”

He faked a smile. “You mean, a lap dancer?”

“That’s bullshit. I’ve seen you perform. You’re absolutely amazing, and if you pursue a professional career in dancing, I’ll be there to help you.” I knew names, producers who worked with pop stars, and whatnot. I could text them right now—

“What are you doing?” he asked, putting his hand on my phone, which I had just pulled out of my pocket.

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