“Is this a date?” The question pops out of my mouth before I can stop it. For a second, I hope he didn’t hear me over the sound of the rotors and rush of the wind at the open sides of the helicopter. But then he chuckles, and embarrassment warms my cheeks. Cross glances over at me. “No.” “Then why am I wearing a dress?” “Did I ask you to wear a dress?” I falter as I realize that no, actually, he didn’t. All he’d said was, We’re going off base. You don’t have to wear your uniform. I smother a groan, but it slips out anyway. “Hellfucker. I made it into a date.”
how on earth can she move on that easily?? her supposed best friend is enslaved to work at a mines and here Wren is doing stuff like THIS, carefree as if her kind aren't currently suffering!
