Page 82 of The Affair
“Twenty Questions?”
“Twenty? That’s amateur hour. Why not forty? I’ve got at least a hundred I could ask you right now.”
“Forty?” I laughed. “You’re insane.”
“You’re just not good at asking questions.”
Tilting my head to the side, I argued, “You’re not good at answering them.”
“That’s true,” he agreed. “Which is probably why I ask so many. It takes the attention off me.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way, but it made sense. “So, why don’t we play a game of Twenty Questions, but only I get to ask them?”
Looking slightly uncomfortable, he sat back in his chair and nodded. “Okay.”
“We don’t have to.”
“No, I want to. I’m just not used to being on the other end, you know?”
“So, why don’t I allow you a pass?”
“Just one?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. It can be unlimited. This is supposed to be a game, not an interrogation.”
“All right. Go for it.”
He looked like he was getting ready to take on the brunt of some brutal attack. This man truly didn’t like to talk about himself.
“Why don’t you like to talk about yourself?” I asked, deciding to go with the most obvious question first.
“I don’t know. I guess maybe it’s because no one really cared enough to listen or ask when I was younger.”
My heart hurt, hearing him speak. I hadn’t planned on such deep subject matter during our romantic date, but I guessed this was what I wanted—to finally know the man I was falling for.
“Why don’t you like your family, Sawyer?”I was getting straight to the point now, wasn’t I?
He opened his mouth. I could see words forming on his lips, but then he blinked, as if a second decision had been made. “Sorry, pass.” He must have seen my disappointment and hurt. Reaching out, his fingers touched the tip of my chin, and his gaze met mine. “It’s not because I don’t trust you. I just don’t want to unpack that tonight. This place is too beautiful of a setting for such an ugly topic.”
Nodding, I took him at his word.
Someday.
Someday, I would understand. But not tonight.
“What’s your favorite color?” I blurted out, going with the first thing that came to mind.
A laugh broke free from his lips, instantly lightening the mood. “Well, usually, it’s red, but right now, I’d have to say it’s black.”
His eyes surveyed every inch of me, and I felt that pull again. The draw.
How had I never noticed it before?
How had we been near strangers for so long?
“Have you dated anyone serious?”
“Serious,” he repeated with a jovial smile. “No. I only go for jokesters.”
