“Did you like the show?” he asks, and I try not to think of Octavia's saccharine sweet smile when she asked me that same question. “It was incredible,” I tell him, moving around the end of the couch and sitting on the furthest cushion from him. “I love that, like rat-a-tat-tat thing that you do.” I imitate the furious flurry of Cope's arms as he pounded away at his drums, sitting above his friends on a raised platform. “Rat-a-tat-tat,” he says with a curved smile that sets my heart aflutter. “I like it. Very descriptive.”
