Molly
Charles keeps staring at me from across the small field and there is not a single hint of a smile on his face. His expression is flat, unreadable, too intense, and it sends a shiver rolling down my spine. He needs to relax. It is not that deep. It is literally a silly game with colored powder, not a war for my virtue. Although with the way he looks right now, I am starting to suspect he would take both equally seriously.
Maya, meanwhile, is smiling like a fool. She keeps talking to him, leaning in, tossing her hair, doing that breathy laugh women do when they want a man to notice them. He is not interested. It is obvious. He barely glances at her and she still doesn’t give up. Dedication or delusion. Hard to tell.
Lawrence clears his throat gently beside me. “Sorry about my wife.
