“Well, I might have had a small thing for you when we first met,” he admits. “You mean when I was following you around, and practically begging you to be my friend? You were ignoring me because you liked me?” I can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t know how to talk to you! You’re so…pretty. It’s scary. You made me nervous. But then I sort of got over this”—he waves a hand at my face—“and realized that we wouldn’t be good together anyway, and I was better off having you as a friend.” “So, what I’m hearing is you came for my face, but left because of my personality? Lovely,” I deadpan.
