Page 50 of The Do-Over

“You will?” I squealed it and didn’t care. “Yes!”

He just shook his head as he accelerated.

“Okay, Nick,” I said, desperate to know every little thing about him, “let’s play a game.”

“No.”

“I will ask a question,” I calmly said, trying not to laugh as he didn’t look at me but his eyes got crinkly around the corners, “and you will answer.”

“Nope.”

“Come on—it’ll be fun. Like Truth or Dare, only it’s all truth and not skanky.” I turned the radio off. “I mean, you can askmequestions next, if you want.”

He gave me the side-eye yet again. “I’m good.”

I didn’t care about his reticence as I turned toward him, smiled, and said, “Question number one. If the law required you tocompete professionally in an athletic event or be killed by a firing squad, which event would you choose?”

He didn’t even look at me. “Running.”

“Really?” I tilted my head and looked at him in his faded jeans and black jacket. “I just can’t picture you running.”

“Next question.”

“Well, no—the point of the game is that I learn something about you. Do you run?”

“Yes.”

“Youdo?” I just couldn’t picture it. I mean, he looked like he was in great shape, but he seemed too intense to be a jogger. “You go for runs?”

His eyes squinted a little. “How else would I run if I didn’t go for runs?”

“I don’t know.” I really didn’t. But, “Well, what do you listen to when you run?”

“This game sucks,” he muttered as he took the St. Mary’s Avenue exit.

“Metallica?”

He glanced at me. “Sometimes.”

“What else?” I needed to know more about this. “And do you run every day?”

He came to a stop at the traffic light before turning to give me full-on eye contact, the kind that sucked you inside of him so you were aware of nothing but Nick Stark. “I get up at six every day and go for a five-mile run. Is it my turn now?”

I blinked—six in the morning?Fivemiles?

“Not yet.” I cleared my throat. “Okay—this one is a hypotheticalquestion. Why would a guy pretend to not recognize a girl he knew from school?”

“What? That’s a dumb question.”

“To you, but not to me.” I giggled in spite of myself, knowing how nonsensical I must’ve sounded. “I just need a guy’s perspective. If a guy was introduced to someone he already knew, but pretendednotto know her, well… what would you say he’s up to?”

He looked at me. “I’d say he either doesn’t like her and wants to avoid conversation, or else he’s got a thing for her and is trying to be cool.”

“Okay.” Warmth buzzed through me at the thought of Nickhaving a thingfor me. Could it be possible? Had Nick Stark noticed… andliked… me before this whole thing started?

Although, it could be just as likely that hedidn’tlike me. I thought back to the Em I presented myself as in school, the one Nick saw in class. Would I have liked me if I met me?

Instantly, I decided it didn’t matter either way—a very un-Em-like conclusion, I realized. I forged ahead and said, “You’ve passed the test. One more hypothetical question and you’re done.”

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