Smiling, she said, "I don't think you run any such risk."
"I guess we'll see," he said, sounding a little skeptical. "Part of me still kind of thinks…"
She waited, but he didn't finish, so she prompted, "Part of you still kind of thinks…?"
"I don't know, I still kind of think you'd go back to him."
Frowning, she said, "No, I wouldn't."
"Maybe you're just trying to convince yourself that you wouldn't," he suggested. "Maybe… you actually think the same thing deep down, or you worry that you would."
"No, I don't," she said firmly. "I am done with him. D-O-N-E, done."
He nodded, but it looked a bit condescending to Julie. "If you say so."
Scowling at his profile, she decided to stop talking to him until he had imbibed some more alcohol—he must not have had enough to trigger the nice side yet.
"This is a waste," Aaron complained back at the hotel as Julie brou
ght him a second beer. "There's no one here but you; I don't have to be drunk to be around you."
"Ah, build it up in your system," she said dismissively as she shoved it at him.
He sighed, shaking his head, but he still smiled. "I swear, you don't have any idea what's good for you, do you?"
She merely smiled. "You can still use it to calm your nerves," she said without answering.
"I don't think you want me to drink to calm my nerves. My nerves are just fine right now, Julie."
"Preemptive measure," she said easily.
"Or…," he said, smirking at her as he took a sip of his beer.
"Or… post-dinner nerve-calming," she supplied.
"Or?"
"Or nothing," she said, a touch exasperated.
"Liar," he said with a smile, turning the TV on anyway. "You may have a 4.0, Julie, but you're not very smart sometimes."
"Why am I not very smart?" she asked, sitting down next to him on the bed.
"Okay, see, now this is another clue," he said, gesturing at the few inches between them. "What are you doing?"
Blinking, she said, "I am watching television."
"Why are you sitting so close to me?"
"Because I passed the cootie test; you're safe."
Rolling his eyes, he said, "You know what I'm like when I drink, Julie. You need to sit in the chair."
Guffawing, she said, "You sit in the chair if you're so worried about it. I'm personally not concerned."
"Not being concerned about how close you sit to men is how you got a poppy seed," he stated.
Thinking back, since Poppy Seed had actually been conceived in a chair, she had to silently concede a little of that point—but never aloud. Instead, she shook her head, and said, "No, I don't think that's how."