“What’s funny?” “You are.” “Yes, but usually, the funny part happens intentionally.” He laughs so hard, I start to get annoyed. I’m about to get up from my seat when he finally wheezes in a breath. “Wait, stop,” he says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.” I halt and turn to face him, still annoyed. “Then why did you?” “Because you’re cute.” I say, “What?” but it comes out like my throat was replaced by a malfunctioning incinerator. “Like, your actions,” he amends. “Your thought processes. All very cute.” “Right.” His eyes study my expression, and he quickly adds, “I mean, physically cute as
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