“You talking about spreadsheets, Nova girl?” I tuck my chin to my shoulder and glance up at him. “I don’t know if you know this about me”—I lick my bottom lip just to mess with him, wanting to see what pretty color his eyes flash in the muted light of this tiny room—“but I love a good spreadsheet.” He groans, a soft unconscious sound from the very back of his throat. “Do you like torturing me?” I smile at him. “So very much.” He grins and leans back in his chair, widening the space between us and pretending to listen to whatever it is Alex and Montgomery are arguing about. A dunking booth made
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