“Not really. I’m too much of a loner to be a ladies’ man. Was it that smooth?”
She nodded and sipped her drink. The waitress brought his brew. He took a sip, keeping his eyes on Mayfair.
“Is it true,” he asked, “that women favor men who are inexperienced?”
“I haven’t read any statistics on it, but I imagine there’s a certain safety in getting involved with a relatively inexperienced man,” she said, and thought about Alan Taylor. “It’s always better for us when it’s weighted more on our side. So little is otherwise.”
If he challenged her, she was ready to rattle off facts like how much a woman makes compared to a man for the same work. She was glad he didn’t question her. She desperately wanted to be different and sound different with him. That desire interested her more than anything. In fact, she was genuinely more curious about herself at this moment than she was about him.
“Okay,” he said, putting his glass down and looking at it. “Here I go. I was in college when one day, I asked myself why I was there. I didn’t have a satisfactory answer, so I got up, gathered some things, got on my motorcycle, and left. In my case, it was heading west. That was about five months ago.”
“And for money?” she asked.
“I had some, but I took an odd job here and there for both the experience, companionship, and some bucks. I’m pretty handy when it comes to auto mechanics. On my way here, I helped two families who had broken down on the highway, in fact. Easy fixes, but I could see the man of the house rarely used a can opener, much less a wrench.”
“What about your family?”
He sipped his beer. “I haven’t told anyone any of this since I left,” he said, and looked away for a moment. She thought he wasn’t going to answer. “Funny, but no one I’ve worked for or met has asked,” he said when he turned back.
“Maybe you scared them off from asking.”
He smiled. “Could be.”
He drank some more of his beer but kept his eyes on her. “My parents died in a brutal car accident involving a tractor trailer. I’m an only child. They had set up my college fund. I was sixteen at the time and lived with my mother’s sister and her family until I started college. Once I was eighteen, I was on my own, not that I didn’t like my aunt and uncle. I just—”
“Wanted to be on your own.”
“Exactly.”
“No friends you didn’t want to leave?”
“I’m not sure you know, because I’m not sure you’re out of high school, but once you leave high school, those friends drift into different lives, as do you. You might hold on to one or two, but it’s not usual.”
“You said you were in college. What about college friends?”
“No one in particular I regretted leaving behind,” he said. “So?”
“So what?”
“Do I pass the test?”
“Too soon to tell,” she said.
“You’re not in high school, are you?”
“No.”
“Are you in community college, college, what?”
“I’m in a private school that is far beyond high school or college. It’s called Spindrift.”
“The castle on the hill,” he said, nodding.
“It’s not a castle.”
“I asked about it when I saw it from a road on the other side of the hill. I got closer but saw that there was a guard at the entry, so I turned around. No one really knows that much about it. ’Least that’s how it struck me. They did say it was some sort of special school. What is it?”
“A special school,” she said.