“As I said earlier,” I reply, tossing my salad around with my fork, “I have a lot to tell you.” “You’re not telling her shit,” Bishop snaps, looking at me. I finally acknowledge him. He’s so close—too close to me—that I can almost feel his breath fall over my lips. “And I said you can’t tell me what the fuck to do, Bishop.” He chuckles, tossing a carrot in his mouth—my carrot. “Oh, Madison. You have no idea the kind of things that tone does to me.”
