Page 45 of Where We Belong

“All right, all right.” She leans on her elbows, bringing her hair dangerously close to the pork testicles. I don’t know how she does it.

“A bit more than a year ago,” she starts, “I had an accident at the gym. Injured myself pretty bad. Needed treatment, yada yada.” She rotates the plate again. “And then I tried to get back to where I was, but it wasn’t working. I was scared, and I kept choking on my movements, so my coach decided I was too old and uncoachable and kind of fired me. I didn’t want to let go of my dream so fast, so I looked for another opportunity and found your mom’s offer.” She scratches her hand. “And if I’m being completely honest, I was also happy for the excuse to leave home.” She smiles, but this time, it’s a little sad. “You’re not the only one who’s dreamed of escaping, you know.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

She inhales deeply, then claps her hands. “Okay. Number two.”

I nod, then take a moment to think about my second precious question—I won’t be able to ask ten of these with the stakes here. Once I’m sure I got a good one, I pick up my fork. Steeling myself with a breath, I stab it into the tiny liver, then close my eyes, take the tiniest bite and swallow it whole once again. I choke on my acid reflux, but still, I do it.

Don’t think about what’s in your mouth, Finn. Don’t you dare do it.

“I’m honestly so impressed,” she says. The little shit thought I wouldn’t do it.

“Why are you single?” I ask.

Her face pulls into a deep frown. “Why areyousingle?”

“Did you eat a liver? No, so suck it, and answer the question.”

She laughs. “It’s just such a random one. I’m not sure why you’d think Iwouldn’tbe single, actually.”

“Don’t go fishing for compliments, Lexie Lou.”

“I’m not, I swear,” she says with her hands up in defense. “I’m genuinely confused.”

“Come on,” I say, giving her a look that saysstop fucking with me.“You’re beautiful, you’re funny, you’re smart. It doesn’t make sense that you wouldn’t have someone.”

Her cheeks turn a deep shade of pink, just like they do every time I say something that is even remotely close to a compliment. I like seeing the color on her. I like it even more when I put it there.

Leaning back in her chair like she’s putting herself at ease, she says, “I’ve never had time for it—or I guess I nevermadetime for it. I’ve spent my life practicing and hustling and no one ever seemed worth what precious time I had for myself.” She takes a long sip of water, as if she was the one who’d just eaten part of a liver. “Plus, men suck, and as you’ve so nicely pointed out, I can be very crabby.”

“Facts.”

“Shut up,” she says before throwing a piece of bug muffin my way. I duck just in time, thank god.

“All right, thanks for answering.”

In a piss-poor imitation of me, she says, “Stop thanking me.”

I laugh, then open my mouth to ask something else, but she says, “Actually, I want to ask you something. What—”

My brows climb on my forehead. “Uh-uh. You know the rules.”

She gives me the harshest stare before saying, “Give me the damn testicle.”

“Talk dirty to me, baby,” I say as I push the plate her way with the tip of my index finger.

“Oh my god. You’re honestly one of the most fucked-up people I know.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“No.” She lifts a shoulder. “But I like it.”

I think I might like it too.

Clearly not as afraid as me, she picks up the testicle and takes a bite that’s big enough to make me gag just at the sight. She even dares to chew.

“I think you’re my new hero,” I say.

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