“No. I won’t give you the satisfaction of making me laugh.” “But then you’d be depriving me of the sound.” I fall silent, dropping the hand from my face. He shifts behind me, clears his throat, feels unsure, as though he’s surprised by his own words. This is the part where I should tease him, should tell him that flirting is futile. But his tone is familiar, feeling like dancing in a dark room and thumb wars under willow trees. The way the words rolled off his tongue felt like a light flick to the tip of my nose, like calloused fingers braiding silver hair. It felt like Kai.
