“Insult me,” he says. “Tell me I’m being an ass. Roll your eyes and remind me what a chore it is to be in my presence.” “What? Why?” “Just do it. I like when you’re honest. When you aren’t afraid of me. You were the one person who…never mind.”
Then, finally, his pinky twitches and wraps around mine. When his eyes return to mine, there’s a question in them, as if he’s the one waiting for me to pull away this time.