Page 28 of Little Monster
“What the hell kind of question is that?” he asks.
“Just shut up and answer it,” I snap playfully, and he holds up a hand.
“All right, all right. Um...” His gaze shifts down, and I watch the way the smoke from the joint curls sinuously into the air. “Because it’s all just too much sometimes, and people don’t talk to me as much when I’m wearing them.”
Honestly, I expected a smart-ass reply, so his candor trips me up, and I don’t say anything at first. Then I ask, “What’s too much?”
He gestures to the rooftop, then to the city. “All of it. Being in LGC... Being me.”
For some reason, I never thought someone like Dex would ever tire of the fame, the devoted fans, the attention. But maybe I misjudged him. I seem to be doing that a lot lately.
“I don’t think I could do it,” I say softly.
His eyes meet mine. “Do what?”
“Be famous.”
Slowly, he lifts the smoldering joint to his lips and takes another hit. After letting it out, he flicks the joint, and ash drifts into the air around us.
“All right, my turn.” He scratches the pale stubble on his chin, and the urge to run my hand over his jaw burns through me, so I grip the handrail tighter. “Are you a virgin?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “What?”
His smile is sharp, challenging. “You heard me.”
“Wow.” I turn to face him and put one hand on my hip. “No, Dex, I’m not.” My eyebrow arches. “Is that surprising?”
“Yeah, kinda.” He shrugs, and I narrow my eyes.
“Why?”
“Why is it surprising?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Because you’re so . . . intimidating.”
My face must betray how ridiculous he sounds, because he quickly explains.
“I’m serious. You’re a closed book. I learned almost everything I know about you from social media, and you’ve only posted, like, nine photos, five of which are your cat. I can’t imagine a lesser man could ever get to know you.”
“Okay, one, I don’t post on social media because I think it’s stupid and a waste of time. And two,lesser man? Lesser compared to whom?”
“Whom?” he says, his eyes going wide.“Dude, Nora, who even says that?” He laughs again, and the sound is light, buoyant. It makes me want to laugh with him, to be near him, to touch him.
God, I wish I could touch him.
“You usewhomwhen referring to the object of a verb or preposition,” I say quickly, knowing perfectly well how pretentious it makes me sound.
“What the fuck is a preposition?” he says, but when I open my mouth to explain, he holds up a hand. “You know what, don’t tell me. It might make me too smart for my own good.” Shaking his head, he goes to lift the joint to his lips again, and I boldly hold out a hand. He looks at it, then at me. “What? You wanna smoke?”
I nod once, wiggling my fingers.
He offers me the joint, and I take it between my first finger and thumb, then lift it to my lips.The fact isn’t lost on me that his mouth touched this, and it makes a thrill go through me, makes me feel like I’m in high school again. I draw the smoke in and close my eyes, letting it fill me, carry me higher. It only takes a moment for a tingle to start working its way up my body from the base of my spine. When I exhale, Dex smiles at me through the heavy gray haze.
“You smoke?” he asks as I hand the joint back to him.
“Sometimes. I did a lot in college. It helped me focus for exams and stuff.” I shrug. “You’ve got a lot more to learn about me, I guess.” My smile is playful, flirty even.
