“You don’t like going to my games?” he asked, surprised. My shoulders sagged. The expression on his face made me feel ashamed. “Of course I do. I just think . . . maybe we’re different.” “Whoa, whoa, whoa . . . let me stop you right there. I don’t like where this is going.” Elliott’s expression tightened, a deep line forming between his brows. His hands were shaking, his mouth twitching.
