“This is weird,” Luka mutters somewhere above my head. Beckett makes an aggravated noise, and there’s a scuffle. Luka grunts and his arm jostles my shoulders. “But also nice! Beckett, Christ, why do you have to kick me? I was going to say it’s nice.” “No, you weren’t.” “I was. I was going to say we should group-hug every day.”
