Bryce glares at her, and maybe it’s the lighting in here, but I swear her cheeks are pinking up. “Obviously. She’s a Mitchell.” “Am I missing something?” I ask. Poppy leans into Bryce. “Well, since we are in honesty hour right now, Bryce has had a crush on Daisy Mitchell for what . . . four years now?” “I don’t have a fucking crush. I’m not a teenager,” Bryce snaps. “An obsession, then.”
