“So, what’s your favorite color?”
“Glitter.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Glitter’s not a color.”
“Sure it is. It’s not clear, it’s iridescent. It’s got all the colors.”
“Okay, well, besides glitter, what’s your favorite color?”
“Grey.”
He snorted, stopping mid-stride to look at me. “Grey? Really?”
Nodding, I said, “Yep. It’s the color of storm clouds. I love storms. I love rain because it washes all the dirt away. It doesn’t give nature a choice, it just cleanses.”
That comment took him a second to digest; I could tell by the way he studied me and the slight curl that caught one corner of his mouth that my words had impressed him.
“Grey. Okay…what’s your favorite food?”
“Greek.”
“Favorite book?”
“Frankenstein.”
“Favorite animal?”
“I don’t know. A black and white marmoset monkey.”
“That’s specific…” He chuckled, and immediately went on to ask, “What about your favorite thing anyone’s ever done for you?”
I stopped. That was a random, odd question. “What?”
Jag brushed the hair from his face and pushed his shades on top of his head. His eyes gleamed and he grinned. “What’s the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done or said to you?”
“I don’t…know.”
I thought, my mind sorted through my memories and fell on one of Sean talking to me when I was sixteen. My boyfriend had broken up with me because his parents didn’t approve of his dating a girl from “the wrong side of the tracks.” But then again, what parent would really be excited about their son dating the daughter of a meth-head and dealer? During our break-up, the guy had told me that I just wasn’t the kind of person he could associate with. Sean was livid, I could see it in his eyes, but he stayed calm and promised me that I’d be something more than what we’d come from one day.
I looked down at my feet slowly sinking in the sand and tried not to choke up as I said, “The most amazing thing anyone has ever done was believe in me and tell me I was better than what I’d come from.”
In that moment Jag’s eyes softened. Tilting his head to the side, he gently swept his fingers across my jaw and nodded. “You are. You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You’re…I don’t even have a word for what you are. But people like you,” his eyes narrowed farther, “are one in a million and I’m damn lucky you put me in my place at that meet and greet.”
That nearly knocked the breath out of me.
Without hesitation, Jag grabbed onto me and we resumed walking down the beach.
“I like it here because most people don’t pay me any attention. Anyone seems small standing next to the ocean, and I like that.” He drew in a breath, and then squeezed my hip. “So, your turn. Ask me questions.”
“The same ones?”
He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
“Favorite color?”
“Red.”
“Why?”
Arching both brows at me, he said, “You ready to have your mind fucked a little?”
If he only knew how fucked my mind already was. “Mind fuck away.”
“It reminds me of blood and bleeding means you’re feeling; it means you’re hurt and that eventually the pain will stop or you’ll be numb. And that’s all I want.”
Ouch. He’s damaged. Really damaged.
“So you got why grey’s my color, then.” We walked for a few moments, neither saying a word, both just staring down at our feet as we trudged through the cold, wet sand.
“Umm…” I paused, trying to remember the questions he’d randomly fired at me. “Favorite food?”
“Thai. And I mean Thai in Thailand. That shit is an orgasm for your mouth.”
“Favorite book?” I fully expected Hustler or Playboy , but instead, he shocked me.
“ The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde.”
“What?” Realizing how stunned I sounded, I tried to recover. “I love that book too. Crazy.”
Jag cut his eyes at me, letting me know I didn’t cover up my shock too well. “Yeah,
“Glitter.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Glitter’s not a color.”
“Sure it is. It’s not clear, it’s iridescent. It’s got all the colors.”
“Okay, well, besides glitter, what’s your favorite color?”
“Grey.”
He snorted, stopping mid-stride to look at me. “Grey? Really?”
Nodding, I said, “Yep. It’s the color of storm clouds. I love storms. I love rain because it washes all the dirt away. It doesn’t give nature a choice, it just cleanses.”
That comment took him a second to digest; I could tell by the way he studied me and the slight curl that caught one corner of his mouth that my words had impressed him.
“Grey. Okay…what’s your favorite food?”
“Greek.”
“Favorite book?”
“Frankenstein.”
“Favorite animal?”
“I don’t know. A black and white marmoset monkey.”
“That’s specific…” He chuckled, and immediately went on to ask, “What about your favorite thing anyone’s ever done for you?”
I stopped. That was a random, odd question. “What?”
Jag brushed the hair from his face and pushed his shades on top of his head. His eyes gleamed and he grinned. “What’s the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done or said to you?”
“I don’t…know.”
I thought, my mind sorted through my memories and fell on one of Sean talking to me when I was sixteen. My boyfriend had broken up with me because his parents didn’t approve of his dating a girl from “the wrong side of the tracks.” But then again, what parent would really be excited about their son dating the daughter of a meth-head and dealer? During our break-up, the guy had told me that I just wasn’t the kind of person he could associate with. Sean was livid, I could see it in his eyes, but he stayed calm and promised me that I’d be something more than what we’d come from one day.
I looked down at my feet slowly sinking in the sand and tried not to choke up as I said, “The most amazing thing anyone has ever done was believe in me and tell me I was better than what I’d come from.”
In that moment Jag’s eyes softened. Tilting his head to the side, he gently swept his fingers across my jaw and nodded. “You are. You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You’re…I don’t even have a word for what you are. But people like you,” his eyes narrowed farther, “are one in a million and I’m damn lucky you put me in my place at that meet and greet.”
That nearly knocked the breath out of me.
Without hesitation, Jag grabbed onto me and we resumed walking down the beach.
“I like it here because most people don’t pay me any attention. Anyone seems small standing next to the ocean, and I like that.” He drew in a breath, and then squeezed my hip. “So, your turn. Ask me questions.”
“The same ones?”
He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
“Favorite color?”
“Red.”
“Why?”
Arching both brows at me, he said, “You ready to have your mind fucked a little?”
If he only knew how fucked my mind already was. “Mind fuck away.”
“It reminds me of blood and bleeding means you’re feeling; it means you’re hurt and that eventually the pain will stop or you’ll be numb. And that’s all I want.”
Ouch. He’s damaged. Really damaged.
“So you got why grey’s my color, then.” We walked for a few moments, neither saying a word, both just staring down at our feet as we trudged through the cold, wet sand.
“Umm…” I paused, trying to remember the questions he’d randomly fired at me. “Favorite food?”
“Thai. And I mean Thai in Thailand. That shit is an orgasm for your mouth.”
“Favorite book?” I fully expected Hustler or Playboy , but instead, he shocked me.
“ The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde.”
“What?” Realizing how stunned I sounded, I tried to recover. “I love that book too. Crazy.”
Jag cut his eyes at me, letting me know I didn’t cover up my shock too well. “Yeah,
Similar Books
