Rose looks mildly pissed off, her eyes ablaze—which is normal. But she’s turned towards me, our bodies pulled together by something magnetically strong, and as I lean in to whisper in her ear, her face ignites. I can’t even remember what I said. I could have easily disagreed with one of her favorite feminists or I could have told her that her hair was pretty. In the video, she shoves my arm. Twice. Waiting for me to get angry like her. Wanting to provoke me. I just grin.
