Page 61 of My Irresistible Enemy

“My family hates each other, and I’m too poor to have a favorite restaurant. Half my diet is like, leftover bagels from the coffee shop.”

“Okay, fine, what’s your favorite bagel?”

“I really just eat whichever are still around at the end of the day.”

“Oh my God. Just fucking pick something. Tell me a favorite anything. I don’t care what. A favorite movie. A favorite breakfast cereal. A favorite time of day. A favorite inside joke with your best friend. It can be anything.”

I couldn’t believe I was getting this worked up. I actually felt a little light-headed. But it was bizarre, wasn’t it, that Aiden wouldn’t tell me a single favorite thing?

“I guess I’m just not a person who has favorites. I’ll take what I can get, you know, and just try to be happy with it.”

“Christ, you’re not a Victorian-era orphan, Aiden. Your life doesn’t consist of begging for more gruel and stale breadcrumbs. It’s not going to kill you to admit you have preferences.”

“Have you ever considered how much it sucks to pick a favorite of something and then not be able to get it?” he snapped. “To be reminded of the fact that the world doesn’t give a shit about you, that you can’t get what you want, and that even your friends and family, your favoritepeople, don’t feel the same way back?”

I stared at him.

“I’m not anybody’s favorite person. I’m not even anyone’s favorite barista. I’m not the guy people choose, you know? For anything. It just doesn’t make sense for me to pick favorites when I’m never going to be anyone’s first choice, and I’m never going togetmy first choice. I’d just be setting myself up for disappointment.”

“That’s…” I trailed off.

“Clearly not something you’ve ever experienced?” he said.

“I think I was going to say sad?” I made a face. “But that sounds judgey, so—”

“It’s fine. Judge away. Everyone else does anyway.”

God, his eyes were so blue. Even in the darkness, they shone. I looked away. My head felt a little swimmy, and my neck felt hot. I took another sip of punch.

“Sorry,” Aiden said. “I was the one who said we should talk about something happy, but I keep jumping down your throat.”

“S’okay,” I said, closing my eyes for a moment. “I just won’t ask about favorites anymore.”

“Well, what does that leave us with?”

“Um. What was thelastbagel you ate from your coffee shop before you came here?” I asked, opening my eyes again. The dance floor was a mass of moving shapes and thumping music. Even the lights seemed to swirl.

“Good question. I think it was garlic salt.” He laughed. “Makes your breath absolutely fetid, but they’re so good.”

“So good, but not a favorite. Got it.”

“What was the last bagel you ate?”

I frowned. When was the last time I’d even eaten a bagel? I couldn’t remember.

It would have been sometime back in—fuck, it was suddenly impossible to remember anything about my life back in DC. Come to think of it, I wasn’t even entirely sure what I’d eaten for breakfast. My brain felt very fuzzy, all of a sudden.

“Nolan? You okay there?”

“Hmm?” I turned and looked at Aiden. He was peering at me with concern. “What did you say?”

“I asked about the last bagel you ate, and you zoned out like you were pondering the nature of all existence.”

“What? No, it’s—I’m fine. I just…can’t remember…bagels?”

I was also incredibly thirsty. I drained the last of my punch, then looked over at Aiden’s glass. I didn’t want to drink alcohol, but my throat was parched. The water lapping on the dock posts below us mocked me.

“Alright, no bagels. Um, what was the last song you sang in the shower?”

---