Page 31 of Set on You

He nods.

I pull back from him dramatically, giving him a funny stare. “You’re an anti-vaxxer, aren’t you?” I whisper conspiratorially.

His color is back now. He gives me a half smile, which makes my heart flutter. “Definitely not. I believe in modern medicine. I just really hate needles.”

“Never would have expected that.”

“See? I come full of surprises.” He holds me captive with his dimples.

I don’t know if it’s the juice box, or the fact that he’s terrified of needles like a young child, but I’m marginally charmed.

He waves a hand toward me. “It’s only fair that you tell me something you hate.”

“When people don’t clean the machines at the gym,” I say pointedly.

He shakes his head, unsatisfied. “Nope. Doesn’t count. I already knew that.”

I sigh, succumbing to the temptation of learning more about him. “One for one?”

“Sure.”

“Okay... I also hate restaurants with laminated menus. They’re always sticky and it freaks me out.”

He runs a hand along his chin in deep thought. “Related, I hate bumper stickers.”

“The last sip in a water bottle.”

“When I’m trying to send someone a GIF with an accompanying message and they send a message before the GIF goes through and it’s all out of order.”

I can’t help but cackle at that one. “Facebook friend suggestions. Like, no, ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend. I do not want to be friends.”

“People who floor it at green lights. What’s the rush?”

I interrupt our game, nodding toward his well-fitted T-shirt. “Did you come here straight from work?”

“Nope. Got the day off. I usually work three or four twelve-hour shifts and then get the rest of the days off.”

I cringe, feeling guilty yet again that Grandma schemed to get him here on one of his days off.

“What do you do when you aren’t fighting fires?”

He runs his hand over his jaw. “I mostly spend some quality time with my dog, Albus, get my groceries, go to the gym, catch the odd game with friends. You?”

“That sounds awfully adult.” I silently appreciate the simplicity of his answer while purposely not reciprocating my response.

He gives me an easy smile. “I’m a thirty-year-old man. I’d hope so.”

“How long have you been at the fire department?”

“You’re suddenly very interested in my life.”

I make a concerted effort to flatten what I assume is a borderline manic grin. “No. I’m not. Just trying to learn your weaknesses so I can exploit you.”

He shrugs. “Fair enough. I’ve been with the fire department since after college. I was lucky and got in pretty much right away.”

“Did you always want to be a firefighter?”

He crushes the juice box in his fist and closes his left eye, aiming it into the trash can across the room. It lands with a perfectclunk.He glances at me triumphantly. “My grandpa always talked about it, so it was in the back of my mind. But I didn’t think about it seriously until high school.”

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