He sits back down. Is it my imagination, or does he sit a little closer?
“Tell me something about yourself nobody knows,” Isak says. His voice has lowered on volume yet again, and he leans in to make sure he doesn’t miss a word that falls from my mouth.
No, I did not imagine things.
I hum. “Okay, lemme think.” I tap my lips with my index finger, his gaze zeroing in on what I’m doing. I hum again, dragging it out, “accidentally” slide my finger across my lip in a tiny caress. “Oh, I know. I pretend the handle is a microphone when I sing in the shower.”
Isak’s eyes follow my hand as I rest it on my lap. “Doesn’t that spray water all over your face and in your mouth?” he asks with a chuckle.
We both realize the implication of his words at the same time, and I burst out laughing. He shake
