thinking, at this very moment, How the fuck are we supposed to answer these questions when we’re not really together? I haven’t even shagged you yet.
She tried to send back something along the lines of All in good time. And at least you know about my arse tattoo.
Perhaps the telepathy attempt didn’t work, because he failed to laugh.
“Question number one,” Edison said, blissfully unaware of his guests’ simultaneous internal meltdowns. “We’ll start easy. Zaf, how does Dani take her tea?”
Zaf stared. “So now I . . . ?”
“Now you write down your answer, Dani writes hers, and we see if they match.”
Zaf looked dubious. “All right.”
“Also, you have ten seconds.” Edison flashed them a toothy grin, tapped a button, and a rather high-pressure clock noise filled the room.
“Oh, Christ,” Dani muttered, staring at her whiteboard. She suddenly had no idea how she took her own tea—and, more important, neither did Zaf. If they were really together, he’d be able to answer this, wouldn’t he? Oh dear. If a ridiculous game on a local radio station exposed their lies, Dani might just burn this place to the ground.
After a tense few seconds, she scribbled down her answer without much thought—since they were utterly doomed and absolutely nothing mattered—and waited with dread for the timer to end and Zaf to get this question hideously wrong. Really, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, she told her racing heart. No one would hear them fail some radio game and come to the ludicrous conclusion that their entire relationship was a sham. But they might decide that Zaf was a shitty boyfriend, or that their relationship in general was shitty—how had Edison put it? A fail?—and for some reason, that idea bothered Dani severely.
“All right, time to share.” Edison grinned. “Zaf, what’s your answer?”
Zaf flipped his board, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Green. She, er . . . well, she doesn’t drink regular tea. But she drinks a lot of green tea. So. Green.”
Dani stared.
Edison was clearly horrified that she drank anything other than breakfast tea, but he hid it well. “Dani, what’s your answer?”
She flipped her board.
And now Zaf was the one staring.
“Green tea!” Edison said cheerfully, when it became clear Dani wasn’t going to.
She was feeling rather dazed, actually. A rush of relief and a flash of surprise combined to intoxicate her, until she returned to her senses and pulled herself firmly together. Of course Zaf knew she drank green tea. When she brought him coffee, he teased her about the contents of her own cup. And really, what was tea, anyway? Minor, that’s what. Practically public information. There were people Dani despised who knew her tea preferences.
Of course, those were usually people she’d worked with in close quarters, people who’d been forced to actually make her said tea as a matter of courtesy when it was their turn to be on kettle duty. But still.
Still.
“Next question!” Edison appeared to be enjoying himself. Either he had the intellect of a puppy, or he was unusually invested in #DrRugbae. Dani suspected, with no little discomfort, that it was the latter. “Dani, what’s Zaf’s favorite flavor of crisps?”
Well, she knew that; she’d seen him eating them often enough. Dani scrawled salt and vinegar onto her board and flipped it over before the ten seconds were up. What sort of relationship quiz was this if two work friends could win so easily? Although, some might say she and Zaf were a little more than work friends these days. Coconspiracy tended to intensify a relationship. Perhaps they’d leveled up to general friends, or some other platonic relationship status that explained the magnetic pull she felt sitting beside him, as if every second she spent not looking at him or smiling for him or laughing with him was a second wasted.
Perhaps they were best friends. How cute.
More questions flew by, all of which were answered correctly. But Dani refused to be impressed that Zaf knew her favorite season—autumn—and she wasn’t remotely happy with herself for remembering that he preferred dogs to cats. He had once told her, over the security desk, that cats were sneaky creatures who hid their toilet business, and an animal that hid its toileting could easily make a habit of pissing behind your sofa, and you wouldn’t even know until you died of ammonia inhalation. Really, when he’d displayed such an unexpected passion on the subject, how could she forget?
“All right,” Edison said finally. “Last question. Zaf, what is Dani’s area of academic interest?”