Page 2 of Might as Well

He surprises me by sitting down next to me.

Notacrossfrom me.

Nextto me.

It's unsettling in this way that turns me on.

Maybe I am that crazy.

“What have you done for fun so far on your trip?” he asks once our drinks arrive.

I shrug. “Drink. See men dance half naked. Drink. Gamble. See some shows. Drink.”

He laughs. “Bachelorette party?”

“Yes.”

“How'd you end up by yourself then?”

“I was taking a little break and lost them when you showed up.”

He grins at me as the waitress drops our food off. “Was I distracting?”

“A little. What is your business?”

He shrugs. “Nothing all that entertaining. Where are you from?”

“North Carolina.”

Zane grins and pops a fry into his mouth. “Me too. Well, that's where I live now.”

Some kind of feeling swirls in my gut at hearing this. We both live in the same state? Hm. Interesting. I don’t believe in fate, but if I did, what a neon sign this would be.

“Tell me, Violet. Tell me a secret.”

I squint my eyes at him. Why would I tell him a secret? His knee bumps against mine. That fluttering feeling may be a good reason.

No.

No, it's not.

He's crazy to think I would tell him a serious secret; I don’t even know him. I grab my drink and take a few large swallows. Once I feel slightly more settled, I tilt my head toward him. Might as well give him an opportunity to persuade me. “Why should I tell you a secret?”

“Why not? I'll be gone in the morning. What could it hurt?”

He may have a point, but still... “I don't think you've earned a secret.”

He nods once. “Tell me about your family then.”

My stomach knots tightly for only a moment, just like it does when anyone asks me. Even after all this time, it really hasn’t gotten any easier. “I don't have one.” He raises an eyebrow as if this simply can't be true. “They're all dead, and who’s left hates me.”

Okay, so that’s notexactlytrue, but it might as well be. It’s better than telling him the truth.

Zane leans back with surprise. “Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean?—”

“It's fine,” I reply casually with a shrug.

“What's the craziest thing you've done?” he asks me. The man is packing away some food. He's already nearly finished.

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