Page 91 of Salto

His gaze stayed on me, not shying away in the slightest.

“No pickles on a burger is crazy, though,” he said abruptly.

I latched onto the safer topic like a lifeline. “Pickles are disgusting.”

His mouth twitched. “You’re restless,” he said.

“Post-meet buzz,” I explained, taking another sip of my shake.

“That’s all?”

“What else would it be?”

For a moment, neither of us said anything.

The diner hummed around us, pots and pans clattered in the back kitchen, and someone laughed near the register.

He leaned forward slowly, resting his arms on the table. “I think it’s best if you say what’s on your mind, don’t you?”

It sounded like a dare.

I would have to tread carefully. There was no way I was crossing any lines. I highlighted rule books in my spare time.

Then I spotted the salt and pepper shakers and knew immediately how I was going to go about this.

I took them from the windowsill and set them between us.

“Hypothetically,” I started as I lifted the salt and the pepper.

His brow lifted. “That’s a dangerous word.”

My eyes narrowed. “Since when does danger scare you?”

He gave me a look that said ‘touché.’

I continued.

“Let’s say there's a person.” I lifted the salt. “Who’s in close proximity with—” I lifted the pepper “—another person who’s a decent-looking individual.”

“Decent?”

“Marginally attractive,” I compromised, unable to use the real words floating around in my head.

“Is Salt getting any description, or just Pepper?”

“Would you like to contribute to the character profiles?” I raised an eyebrow.

“How about devastatingly beautiful?”

“Sure, if you want,” I said with a shrug, setting down the salt as my heart rate sped up and my stomach did a dangerous flip.

“So Salt meets Pepper.”

“Go on.”

“And they have this—” How do I explain this? “—chemistry,” I finally said.

“Right,” he said, but his jaw clenched as his thumb brushed absently over a compass tattoo just above the Olympic rings on his forearm.