I’d like Rose to give Connor a chance. If anyone can verbally keep up with her, he can. But she pushes men away as much as I used to lead them in. Her body language stays closed off—her face as icy as before. “That’s really funny. Nice joke.” Oh no, Rose, he’s not joking. I want to tell her that this isn’t some cruel trick to make fun of her. She has guards up so she won’t get hurt. It’s easier to be cold than to feel the sting of disappointment. “It isn’t one,” he tells her, taking another step. Her feet stay cemented to the floor, a good sign. “I have tickets to The Tempest.” I chime in,
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