“Why does me not talking mean you have to hum the same fucking song for miles?” he snapped. Anger flared, but I pushed it down and chuckled. “I can switch it up. Hum something else. Any requests?” “Is silence an option?” “Nope,” I said cheerfully. “Either we talk, or I hum. Or I can sing?” “No,” he barked, then let out an irritable huff. “What do you even want to talk about? We don’t know each other. We’re not doing this to form a lifelong fucking friendship.”
