“You think you can out-brat me, Blake Carter?” “It’s kind of fun to be an asshole.” I shrug, grinning at him. “I see why you do it.” “Good fucking luck, little boy,” he sneers the pet name, hoping it’ll make me angry. It doesn’t. Especially because he looks jealous. Jealous of his own mouth muttering a nickname meant for him. I kind of love how complicated and hypocritical he is. I laugh, and he smacks my chest.
