“Exactly. Would you like to borrow my pole?” When she laughed under her breath, he went on. “Besides, I think it made people nervous when I just stood out here brooding, like I was up to no good. And earlier this week, with the bruises, I probably would have scared them, too.”
“I’d like to think you came off as contemplative.”
“I doubt it. You, on the other hand, come across as the type who frequently contemplates things. Life. Goals. Dreams.”
She flushed, feeling too tongue-tied to answer. Despite herself, she couldn’t help agreeing with Serena: Colin was seriously… hot. She shook the thought away, not wanting to go there.
“Do you mind?” he said, motioning toward her before leaning over and grabbing his tackle box. “I’m not having a lot of luck over here.”
His suggestion caught her off guard. “Uh, yeah… sure. But if you’re not very good at fishing, I can’t promise this spot will be any better.”
“It probably won’t be,” he admitted, drawing near. He set the tackle box beside him on the pier, leaving a comfortable distance between them. “But I won’t have to talk so loud.”
Unlike her, he seemed perfectly relaxed, and she watched as he reeled in his line and recast in a new location. He leaned forward, jerking the pole slightly.
“Your sister has quite a personality,” he said after a moment.
“Why do you say that?”
“Her introduction to me included the words, ‘Hey you, with the hurt face.’ ”
Maria grinned, thinking that sounded exactly like Serena. “She’s one of a kind, that’s for sure.”
“But she’s more like a friend than a sister, right?”
“Did she tell you that?”
“No,” he said. “I noticed it while I waited on the two of you. It’s easy to tell you’re pretty close.”
“We are,” Maria agreed. “Do you have siblings?”
“Two older sisters.”
“Are you close?”
“Not like you and Serena,” he admitted as he adjusted the fishing line. “I love them and I care about them, but we kind of ended up taking different paths in life.”
“Which means?”
“We don’t really talk that often. Maybe once every couple of months or so. It’s been improving lately, but it’s a gradual process.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It is what it is,” he said.
His answer suggested he didn’t really want to discuss it further. “Serena said that you and she are in class together?” she asked, venturing on to safer ground.
He nodded. “She caught up with me on the way to the library. I guess you must have told her how I looked that night and she put it all together. Which wasn’t too hard, what with the hurt face and all.”
“It wasn’t so bad. I didn’t really think much about it.” When he raised an eyebrow, she shrugged. “All right. So maybe I was a little scared when you walked up.”
“Makes sense. It was late and you were in the middle of nowhere. That’s one of the reasons I stopped.”
“What was the other reason?”
“You were a girl.”
“And you think all girls need help changing a tire?”
“Not all girls. But my sisters and my mom would have needed help. And I didn’t get the sense that you were having a lot of fun.”
She nodded. “Thank you again.”
“You already said that.”
“I know. But it deserved to be said a second time.”
“Okay.”
“Just ‘okay’?” The corners of her mouth turned up.
“It’s my go-to phrase when someone makes a statement instead of asking a question.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“Okay,” he said, and despite herself, she laughed, finally beginning to relax.
“Do you like bartending?” she asked.
“It’s all right,” he answered. “It pays the bills while I’m in school, I can pretty much pick my schedule, and the tips are good. But I hope I’m not forced to make it a career. There’s more I want to do with my life.”
“Serena said you want to be a teacher.”
“I do,” he agreed. “Where did she go, by the way?”
“She met up with some friends. They’ll troll the bars for a while and listen to music, then probably head off to a party or whatever.”
“Why didn’t you join them?”
“I’m a little old for college parties, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“I’m twenty-eight and I’m still in college.”
Yeah, she thought, I know. “And you go to college parties?”
“No,” he conceded, “but it’s not because I think I’m too old. I just don’t go to parties. Bars, either.”
“But you work at a bar.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because I work there. And even if I didn’t, it’s not the kind of bar where I’d end up getting in trouble, since it’s really more of a restaurant.”
“You get in trouble at bars?”
“I used to,” he said. “Not anymore.”
“But you just said you don’t go.”
“That’s why I don’t get into trouble.”
“How about clubs?”