“By the way, I saw you with him on the pitch Friday, you little flirt.” “I was not flirting with him,” I practically spluttered. “He came up to me.” “Better again.” She giggled. “He was the one doing the flirting.” “Nobody was flirting,” I choked out. “We were just—” “You were just what?” Claire teased. “Talking,” I filled in with a helpless shrug. “About what?” “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Just stuff, I guess?” “And taking pictures together,” she added with a cackle. “I saw that, too.”
