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“What’s your favorite book?” Doubt colors my voice. “If you have a favorite, I don’t trust you. Any book lover has at least five they can name off the top of their head.” His blue eyes hold mine.
“A man who prefers to live in a fantasy. How cute.” “I’d be your best fantasy, no book needed.”
“That’s my fear with someone like you. You take and take until I have nothing left to give. You’d be easy to fall in love with until you walk away, breaking my heart in the process.”
I shrug because I didn’t pick a perfect song about stars, love, and a color that reminds me of her and that damn bikini she wore in Monaco. My mom clearly listens to my stories a little too closely.