“Fine. I trust you.” I take the phone off its place on my dresser and straighten. “Then I’ll go out there and reintroduce myself.”
“Put on a turtleneck,” Nova tells me.
I flip her off.
Then I end the call, toss my phone onto the bed, and pull open my dresser drawer. I bypass the jeans, skip over the yoga pants, and go straight for my softest, least flattering option: a baggy gray romper that hits just above the knee and hides everything—literally.
I tug it on and glance at myself in the mirror.
Nod.
Satisfied I look dowdy, I open my bedroom door, listening for noises so I can head in the right direction.
From the recesses of the house I hear the distinct sound of plastic clicking and follow the sound.
Multiple clicks. Rhythmic. Sharp.
What the?—
I creep toward the dining room and peek around the corner.
There he is.
Professional athlete. Full-grown man.
Building a LEGO fortress.
A massive one. Like, multiple instruction books thick. There are tiny piles of bricks color-sorted across the table, and he’s hunched over the base, tongue slightly between his teeth, focused like he's defusing a bomb.
He doesn’t look up.
Barely notices I’m there.
This was not what I expectedhim to be doing when I found him.
My nerves, which were ready for awkward eye contact and forced small talk, are now totally unprepared for the sight ofthe man who saw my butt this morning carefully constructing a medieval drawbridge.
He finally glances up, startled.
“Oh,” he says. “Hey.”
Pause.
He looks at me, then quickly back at the LEGO instruction booklet.
I clear my throat. “What are you working on?”
“Lord of the Ringscastle,” he says without missing a beat. “Helm’s Deep. Limited edition.”
I hide my smile. “Oh...”
He nods solemnly. “Very rare. Took four months to track down and I paid way too much for it.”
I step closer, curiosity overriding my embarrassment. “Is that a tiny battering ram?”
It’s so cute! I love miniature things.
He nods again. “And a miniature Aragorn. Careful though—his sword falls off if you breathe on him too hard.”
