Page 34 of Best Man
“Jax would not be impressed?”
“Well, remember, Jax grew up on a farm, too.”
He playfully smacked his forehead. “Duh. I forgot.”
“Yup. So no, I don’t think he’d be very fascinated, because he knows what the life’s all about.” She bumped her elbow against his arm. Unlike earlier, though, she didn’t feel that magical sizzle of frenetic electricity when her body touched his.
What happened?she wondered, disappointed.
“You said plants think,” he observed. “Do you really believe plants think?”
Any time she went down this kind of path with people, they inevitably ended up thinking she was a kook or a woo-woo weirdo person, so she knew to keep her cards close to her vest.
“Well,Ithink so,” she said carefully. “But they think in their own plant way, though, which is different than how we think. But that’s just me and people always think I’m crazy, so whatever.”
“Okay, so what do plants think about?” he asked.
She wasn’t sure if he was simply curious or challenging her. She assumed the latter, because that’s what she was used to.
“I don’t know. All we can do is study them and try to learn more,” she said. “There was some study done where researchers played music to growing plants. And the plants that grew up listening to death metal were all leggy and spindly, compared to the healthy plants that grew up listening to classical.”
Niko’s eyes widened. “Wow.You serious? This is real?”
“It’s as real as I can tell,” she said with a laugh. “I read about it in a book calledThe Secret Life of Plants.It had a bunch of other fascinating studies and theories about plants, too—like, if they have psychic powers, and how they can be hooked up to lie detector tests.”
“What?!” he laughed.
“Yeah. Crazy book. But to answer your question—who knows if it’s real? It’s interesting information, but I tend to only trust what I can see for myself.”
“Wow. I must read this book,” he said.
“It’s pretty dry, but I’d loan you my copy, if you want.”
“Sure.” He nodded. “This is very bad news for me, though.”
“What is?”
“Ilike death metal.”
“Oh no!” Paulina laughed and bumped his round and firm shoulder with her own. “But I’m sure you’ll be okay.” She stole a quick glance at his arms, knotted with muscle. “You look, um, plenty strong and healthy to me, anyway.”
“When I was young, I listened to lots of classical music.”
“You did?” she asked, her voice rising an octave. She had a hard time believing young superstar athletes grooved to Bach or Beethoven.
“Yes, because of my sister, Katya. She is a lovely piano player. Growing up, I was good at hockey, but she was even better at piano.”
Paulina laughed. “Wow! That’s high praise, coming from you.”
“I’m completely serious, Paulina. She’s very, very talented.”
“Aw. That’s sweet. You’re so proud of her.”
“Very, very proud.” His smile proved it. “Who knows? She could’ve been the best ever, maybe.” His smile began to fade. “She had to stop playing for my career.”
Paulina sensed his heartbreak in her own chest. “She did? But why?”
“My parents did not have money for both hockey and piano lessons. They had to choose.” He let out a deep breath. “They chose hockey.”
