He is dressed in dark-wash jeans and a cable-knit maroon sweater. Weirdly enough, it is almost the exact same shade as my sweater. He steps to the side to allow me through the door. With his lips a mere whisper from my ear, he says, “Mine is better.” “You’re an idiot,” I say with a laugh. “Got you to smile, didn’t it?” He winks before backing away, his bare feet padding against the floor.
