Page 19 of The Lies We Play

She shrugs. “You seem to like reading. What’s next? You’re going to tell me you read The Hunger Games trilogy?”

“My sister made me.”

“Your sister has taste.”

“My sister is also terrifying.”

“Even better.”

“I stopped her at Twilight.”

Livia laughs then.

Not loud, exactly, but fuller than the almost-smiles. The sound moves across the roof with enough force to make me look away for half a second. Not because I am embarrassed.

Because I want to look too much.

“I bet you’d be Team Edward,” she says.

“No. I’m Team ‘I’ll Never Read It.’”

“Coward.”

“Survivor.”

She lets the smile stay this time. Just for a second. Then she goes back to the considered, slightly arched face of a woman who has decided I’m acceptable but is not ready to commit to anything stronger until further information becomes available.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Creed.”

“Creed.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a name?”

I grimace.“My mother liked it.”

“Was your mother a fan of believing things?”

“My mother is a fan of having strong opinions and naming her children before her husband could object.”

“Smart.”

“What’s yours?”

“Livia.”

“Livia,” I repeat. “It’s beautiful.”

She shrugs like compliments are objects she doesn't know where to put.

“Like Augustus’s wife,” I add.

“Yes . . .” She stops and gives me a look.

She had not, I think, expected that.