“Am I annoying you?” he asked. He sounded amused. I glanced at him without thinking… and told the truth again. “Not exactly. I’m more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read—my mother always calls me her open book.” I frowned. “On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read.” Despite everything that I’d said and he’d guessed, he sounded like he meant it. “You must be a good reader then,” I replied. “Usually.” He smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultrawhite teeth.
