Page 13 of Twisted Collide

I roll my eyes. “Are you always this grumpy?”

He just stares at me, and I wonder if he’ll respond when he finally does. “Actually, yes,” he admits.

It makes me giggle. Great, not only did he just call me young, but here I am, giggling like a schoolgirl. Talk about cliché.

“Wow, was that hard to admit?”

He cocks his head as if to think about his answer and then says, “Not really.”

That makes me full out laugh this time. “Now that we have that out of the way, and we’ve yet to establish if you come here often, I think I’ll change direction and see if I can get some answers from you.”

His lips purse, but he allows me to continue. “What brings you here?”

“What brings you here?” he fires back.

I smirk. “Oh, avoiding my question with a little deflection. I can tell I’m going to like you.” I turn toward the bar and wave down the woman for another drink. “I came for the expensive booze and the minibar snacks in my hotel room. Now it’s your turn.”

“I needed a distraction.” His low voice reminds me of a storm brewing in the background. A feeling I know all too well.

“Rough night? Or rough day?” I ask on a sigh.

“Both, and you?”

I nod in understanding because, same. “Me too, actually. A better word might be soul-crushing.” I shrug. “Maybe we’re kindred spirits.”

“It does seem that way.” He lets out a grunt.

Silence engulfs us, and perhaps my night of distraction isn’t meant to be. It appears that I got ahead of myself. Just as I’m about to order another drink and then duck out, disappointed with my tail between my legs, the bartender returns with another drink for the broody stranger.

“I hate crappy days,” I murmur, mostly to myself.

He raises his glass and takes a swig. “I’ll drink to that.”

I raise mine in the air, not one to leave another hanging, and take a gulp. “I also hate spiders.”

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, likely thinking I’m insane. This whole night, I’ve been nothing if not random. But why not? I don’t know this guy. I’ll likely never see him again, so I might as well be myself—something I don’t do often.

I hide behind a massive wall that I’ve built to protect myself. I’d rather live in my bubble, convincing myself everything is wonderful. The world might be on fire on the other side, but in here, I’m safe.

“I think every person hates spiders,” he muses, inspecting his glass before taking a pull of the amber liquid.

“I hate waking up in the morning. God, do I love sleeping,” I say, continuing with the random bits of information. Might as well get the small talk out of the way, just in case he’s game to take this somewhere else.

He runs his hand through his hair. “I’m indifferent.”

“Interesting,” I say, pursing my lips, trying to appear unimpressed.

“Not really all that interesting.” He turns toward me, face pinched as though he’s about to impart the biggest secret. “Ihatepickles.”

“Blasphemy,” I say, barely a whisper.

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“I hate charm bracelets that have no charms.” I wiggle my wrist, showing him the empty silver-plated chain to prove my point.

“Any reason you’re charmless?”

I shrug. “It was a gift, and the original charm fell off. I guess I’ve never gotten around to replacing it.”

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