Holy shit. Holy. Shit. “Is Mr. It’s Impossible to Fall For You Because You’re A Stupid Jock catching feelings?” I can’t stop the smile from taking over because the idea of that? My heart wants to damn explode. “No,” he whines. It’s way too emphatic and high-pitched to be the truth though. He clears his throat, looks me in the eye, and tries again. “No.” I sing. “I think you like me.” I add a little dance in there too. “You really like me.” “I don’t like you so much right now,” he mutters.
