Page 84 of Wordless


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She pointed toward the front of the plane. "The pilots?"

I didn't turn to look. "No."

"It was a joke," she said.

"Yeah. I got it."

She frowned. "Well, it couldn’t have been too good if you didn't laugh."

I leaned back in my seat. "I'm laughing on the inside."

"Oh please," she said. "You are not."

She was right.I wasn't.The purpose of this conversation wasn't to yuck it up. It was to get Becka out of my system, verbally, that is.

The plan was to get her talking. The truth was, conversation was always a deal-breaker when it came to getting serious. Hell, an hour's worth of conversation with Imogen had been more than enough for me to know that we'd be going nowhere fast.

To Becka, I repeated the gist of my question. "So why English lit?"

She gave me an odd look. "Are you asking for real?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well…" She hesitated. "I guess because you haven't been terribly chatty, so I'm wondering what's up."

I had to give her credit. She was good at cutting to the chase.

I liked that.Not a good sign.

I replied, "Hey, it's a two-hour flight."

"So?"

"So, you want to sit in silence?"

She gave it some thought. "I don't mind silence."

Huh. Me neither.

Still, it didn't fit with what I'd seen so far. "You seem talkative enough."

"Well maybe I'm a nervous talker."

"Meaning?"

She gave an embarrassed laugh. "Well, when I get nervous, I ramble sometimes. But normally, I'm not a huge talker, unless I know someone really well." She smiled. "Like my sister."

Shit.

I was the same way.

I tried again. "You realize you never answered the question, right?"

"About why English lit?" She paused to think. "Well for starters, I like the language, especially the old stuff."

"Old stuff?"

"You know, the classics."