Page 106 of Take My Kiss
“You believe him?” I ask, still skeptical of this random stranger.
She glances at me quickly before looking back at him. “What color are his eyes?”
The glaring motion light makes it hard to see, but I turn him toward me.
“Brown.” I shift to his other eye, then back and forth again, second-guessing myself. “No, wait. Green.”
“I have one of each,” he clarifies.
Amelia’s mouth falls open, slowly walking toward him as if checking for herself. “You have Heterochromia?”
“Yes.” He clears his throat, standing taller. “You were always jealous you didn’t ’cause you thought it was so cool.”
I glance between them, even more conflicted about whether I believe him. She never mentioned he had two-colored eyes, but based on her reaction, he did.
“Hmm.” She crosses her arms. “When’s my birthday?”
“July twenty-eighth. You’re a Leo.”
“Who was my first boyfriend?”
He scoffs. “Damien Dumb-ass Archer.”
My brows shoot to my hairline at the boy she told me about last weekend.
“Where did Mom and Dad take us when we were in fifth and seventh grade?”
“Washington D.C. You threw up the entire plane ride, and I got sores on my feet from all the walkin’ they made us do.”
“Someone from my hometown could’ve told you these things,” Amelia asserts. “Tell me somethin’ more personal that only you’d know.”
He briefly flicks his gaze toward me. “You sure? It might be embarrassin’.”
“Mm-hmm. Say it.”
“The night of your Sweet Sixteen party, you went missin’, so I went outside to search and found you and Mr. Bradshaw makin’ out by his Jaguar.”
“What?” Her jaw drops, looking horrified. “No one knows ’bout that.”
He grins wickedly. “I never said anythin’ so I could keep it as blackmail if you ever tried snitchin’ on me for somethin’.”
That sounds just like something Bodie and Bellamy would’ve done to each other as teens.
“Uh, who’s Mr. Bradshaw?” I raise a brow at Amelia.
“No one,” she responds at the same time he does, “Her best friend’s dad.”
My brows shoot to the stars. “See, I knew older men were your preferred type!”
She rolls her eyes. “I warned ya I made bad datin’ decisions when I was younger. Can we stay on topic, please?”
“Continue,” I quip.
“One more question.” Amelia inches closer, examining his face. “How many scars do I have?”
His face contorts, brows pinch together, and he lowers his gaze over her face and arms. “Um…I-I don’t remember you havin’ any.”
“That was a trick question!” Amelia beams. “If you mentioned the surgery scars I got fromafteryour accident, then I’d know someone fed you information ’bout me.”
