“You’re very forward. Are you flirting or teasing?” she asks, her lips twitching as if she’s trying to restrain a smile. “Both, I think you’re cute.” “Cute?” Cute, beautiful, stunning, angelic. The only thing on my mind for the past week. Yeah, cute. Sure. “Yes, of course I think you’re cute. I’m not blind.” She purses her lips in thought at my answer. “You’re a bit too forward.” Definitely not the response I was expecting. I would be a little offended if I was trying to take it slow, but as always, I’m impatient. I ignore her and focus on what she’s doing.
