He steps closer. Our shoes nearly touch. “Is that what you fantasize about? Me serenading you with my feelings?” My pulse thrums. “I don’t fantasize about you.” Liar. Dirty, rotten liar. Liar liar pants on fire. Didn’t he warn you not to fib in front of him? His gaze drops to my mouth as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Pity. Wish I could say the same about you.”
