“You look like a traffic cone,” he told me. As we passed a potted tree in the lobby, I pushed him into it. He hadn’t been expecting it—he actually took a step to the side. Satisfaction filled me at the giant leaf that had the audacity to smack him in the head. He shot me an annoyed glance. I rolled my eyes. “Gosh, you’re so stuffy. I bet you’ve never done anything silly in your life. You really need to loosen—” He shoved me into a towel cart. It was half-hearted because I was able to catch myself before I hit it. “Close, but no cigarette,” I told him, breathless at the playfulness, before we
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