“I told you not to call me that,” he cuts in sharply. I blink. Right… “Sorry, it’s a hab—” “Or I’m gonna call you something you don’t like,” he rushes out quickly, like he had to force it all out in one go. I hold back a laugh. “Like what?” “I don’t know.” A beat passes, then he blurts, “Mase Face.” My eyes widen. He grumbles something, and I picture his face turning beet red. “Yeah, that’s horrible,” I tell him, grinning so wide, my cheeks hurt. “Shut up.”
