“You do that a lot.” “What?” “Stare.” “Says the guy who was just checking me out.” “There’s a difference.” I meet his eyes. “You know why I’m staring.” “You want to know why I am?” “Obviously.” “You wear glasses.” My eyebrows crease with confusion. “You’re staring because I wear glasses? I can take them off, but then I can’t read shit.” “No, no.” He clears his throat, but his voice comes out rough. “Leave them on.” “Oh.” I smile and lean in closer. “You’re staring because you like them.” “And now you know what I look like when I’m checking you out.”
