“I know he likes you,” she’d said once while we were supposed to be studying. “I see the way he looks at you. He gets uptight if I even bring you up.” I’d sighed and closed my notebook. “Dee, I think the reason why he stares at me is because he’s planning on ways to kill me and hide my body.” “That is so not the look he gives you.” “Then what’s the look, Dee?” She knocked her book off the bed and climbed to her knees, placing her hands over her chest. “It’s the ‘I hate you but I want you’ look.” I giggled. “That was terrible.”
