We’ve only been here for an hour and ten minutes. I got her for another fifty. “Chinese or pizza?” “I’m not hungry.” “Pizza or pasta?” “I’m not hungry.” “You’re a damn liar. Your stomach’s been growling for twenty minutes. Did you eat at all today?” She’s still that pale girl she was, but sometimes she looks like she’s rested and other times she looks like she was partying all night, and hell, maybe she is. “Not that it’s your business, but yes, I ate.” “What?” “What?” “What did you eat?” Her cheeks grow slightly pink, and she avoids my gaze, like normal. “I had a peanut butter sandwich.”
