Vuk glanced around the kitchen. Your apartment doesn’t look the way I’d imagined it would. “Do you spend a lot of time imagining my apartment?” I teased, echoing his earlier remark about me looking him up online. Perhaps it was the lighting, but I could’ve sworn the faintest wash of pink tipped his ears. When I blinked, the color was gone. I must’ve imagined it. Vuk Markovic didn’t blush. Ever.
