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His answer comes fast and unequivocal. “No.” I’m swamped with relief, until he fires a question back at me. “Would you care if I did?” I squeeze my eyes shut and reluctantly tell him the truth. “Yes. I’d hate it. I’d hate you. I’d never want to see you again.” His chuckle is low and warm and utterly smug. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” My God, I’d like to introduce his skull to a sharp object. I open my eyes and cry, “Fine! Yes, I have feelings for you! Violent, murderous feelings!” “Getting warmer. Keep going.” “This doesn’t make any sense! Why are you even asking me this? I’m bossy and mouthy and a pain in your butt and you don’t believe in love and only like girls with big boobs!” He nods. “We definitely don’t work on paper. And don’t forget you can’t stand my manners.” “Exactly!
- Writer
