11 OLIVIAI let Noah take the bathroom to brush his teeth first. We haven’t yet reached the level of familiarity required for me to watch another human being spit into the sink. Meanwhile, I take the bedroom to change into my favorite fleecy pajamas.
When I emerge, Noah is leaning against the wall outside the bathroom door. He c***s his head with an amused smile that stops me in my tracks.
“What?” I ask after a minute.
His eyes crinkle at the edges. “Nothing. You look cute.”
Cute? My cheeks turn pink as the word fizzes down through my stomach. I suddenly feel self-conscious about having little lavender butterflies printed all over me. Somehow I hadn’t expected Noah to have an opinion on my pajamas. Or, if he did, that he would tease me about them. Not say sweet things that make me tempo
