“Are you being facetious on purpose, sweet girl?” I bite my lip to hide my budding smile. “I don’t know what facetious means, Sir.” He ducks into the driver’s seat and with a roar of the engine—a noise I didn’t know this car could make. “Purposely difficult. Treating serious situations with mockery.” He pulls out onto the quiet suburban street. “Oh.” I smile harder. “Then yes. I am.”
