Page 9 of Art of Love

His laugh was warm, easy. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who impresses you?”

She gave him a slow, considering glance before shrugging. “People who are real. People who don’t take themselves too seriously.”

“Sounds like a low bar.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Abe watched her for a moment, as if trying to decide if she was messing with him or being completely serious. Then he nodded towards the water. “Why’d you leave Pride?”

Her jaw tightened for half a second before she smoothed it out. “Because I wanted to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

Abe hummed in response, clearly not satisfied but letting it slide.

“Your turn,” he said, kicking a small piece of driftwood. “Ask me something.”

Dylan thought for a moment, then went for something easy. “What brought you here? Really.”

He hesitated, just slightly, before answering, “I needed a break.”

“From?”

He gave her a look. “That’s two questions. My turn.”

She rolled her eyes but let him have it.

“What do you do?” he asked.

Her heartbeat kicked up, but she kept her expression smooth as she embellished the truth. “Odd jobs. Whatever pays the bills.”

His gaze sharpened. “That’s vague.”

“So was your answer.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. Your turn.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, watching the way the firelight in the distance cast shadows across his face. She knew she couldn’t go in for the killer questions, so she tossed a light one to throw him off. “What’s the best part of being famous?”

Abe thought about it, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful. “The music. Writing it. Playing it. The rest is just noise.”

She was surprised but nodded, as if filing that answer away.

“My turn,” he said, cutting his gaze towards her. “What’s the worst part of coming back here?”

She stiffened, her feet pausing in the sand, and held in the answer that first came to mind. The people. Then, just as quickly, she smoothed it away. “Didn’t say there was a worst part.”

He didn’t believe her. She could tell instantly. But he didn’t push.

Instead, he let the moment settle between them, the sounds of the waves filling the silence.

Finally, she exhaled and took a step closer to the water. “Alright, one more question.”

He arched a brow. “Make it a good one.”

She turned to him, her dark eyes unreadable. “Why do you really have that look in your eyes? The look people have when they think no one is watching. The one that says you’re running from something.”