Mira brushes past me, doing a poor job of smothering the smile that’s playing across her face. She puts a good chunk of space between us before she mutters just loud enough for me to hear, “My God, Little Dalca. I daresay that man has it bad for you.” And all I can think is good. Now we can have it bad for each other. I hope he’s as fucked up over me as I am over him.
