“Really? You know everything?” Gravel crunched under my feet as we neared the area where Amanda’s car had been idling. I focused on Luc, not wanting to think about her sitting in that car.
“Pretty much.”
The desire to prove that wasn’t correct got the better of me. “Okay. Who was the twelfth president of the United States?”
“Zachary Taylor,” he answered immediately. “And he wasn’t president very long. He died of a very upset stomach. Side note, there’s still much debate over what exactly caused his death.”
“Okay. The fact you know the latter part is odd, but whatever. Tell me the square root of five hundred and thirty-eight?”
He laughed, which was unnecessary because he was already getting an absurd amount of double takes from nearly everyone passing by us. “Twenty-three point one nine—and you know what? You don’t know the answer to that question.”
That was true. “How do you know? I’m a math genius.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have asked that question.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Taft was one of the last presidents to preside over the addition of a new state. Currently there are eighty-eight known constellations. Beard hair grows twice its normal rate while on a plane.”
“What?”
“It’s true. Another thing that’s true? Honey never spoils. Look it up. It’s also hard to access memories without moving your eyes. Try doing that one day,” he said. “Water can boil and freeze at the same time. Cats always land on their feet because of physics. And there’s enough DNA in one human to stretch from the sun to Pluto seventeen times.”
“School would bore you.” I stopped by my car.
“Not if you were in class.”
I ignored the weird flutter in my chest. “Uh-huh.”
His grin teased at me. “Can I come home with you?”
“Come again?”
“Well, that came out kind of wrong, didn’t it?” He chuckled as he stepped forward, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “I want to come home with you.”
My heart did a cartwheel and then face-planted itself against my ribs. “I still don’t think that came out right, Luc.”
“It came out just the way I wanted it to.”
That flutter grew, and I did everything in my power to ignore it. “Are you going to finish our conversation from this weekend?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Why else would I talk to you?” I shot back.
He laughed again under his breath. “I like to think there are other reasons you’d talk to me, Peaches.”
“Don’t call me that.” I opened my car door. “My mom would flip if she came home and saw you there.”
“I’d be gone before she got home.”
I hesitated. “How would you know that?”
“I’m fast. The moment you heard her pull up, I’d be out of the house.” He paused. “In a jiffy.”
He was fast. I knew that, but still. “I don’t know.”
Luc was quiet for a moment. “You came to my place. How is this any different?”
It didn’t seem like it should be, but it was. Allowing him to come to my house was different.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked after a moment.
His question startled me. I should be afraid of him, especially after seeing exactly what he was capable of, but truth was, I wasn’t afraid of him.
“No. I’m not.” I took a deep breath. “You can come home with me, but you have to promise you’ll be good before my mom gets home.”
“Pinkie swear.”
I rolled my eyes. “Get in the car.”
Grinning, he walked around to the passenger side and climbed in just as I was turning the car on. I glanced over at him. “So, um, what did you end up doing with your weekend?”
“Patrolling.”
I waited until two girls passed my car, and then I pulled out. “What does that mean?”
“It means I was out making sure we didn’t have a psycho Luxen hanging around, hell-bent on revenge.” He stretched out his long legs, letting his elbow rest on the open window. “Good news is that we didn’t see any signs of Sean and Charity having another sibling.”
“That’s good.” My stomach tumbled. “Right?”
“Right.”
He didn’t sound like it was a good thing. I glanced over at him. Luc was staring out the window. “What are you not telling me?”
He didn’t answer.
Anxiety spiked. “Luc.”
“Everything.” Luc looked at me as reached a stoplight. “I still have everything to tell you.”
* * *
Luc didn’t tell me anything when we got to my place on Monday. Once we got to my house, he’d turned on the TV and started searching for alien movies.
Yep.
Alien movies.
For three hours, he raged about how alien invasions in Hollywood almost always got it wrong. He was kind of right. Real aliens didn’t look like giant insects, but when I pointed out Invasion of the Body Snatchers, I’d stumped him.
It was a weird afternoon, but it had been . . . amusing. And it had also felt . . . normal. Like I’d done this before, and honest to God, I’d never sat and argued about which aliens were freakier: the ones from Independence Day or from the old Alien franchise.