Davo called out as I was walking over to the dining hall. “Hey, wait up,” he said, jogging a little to catch up. Tonight he wore a black tank top with a black pleated skirt that went down to his knees. It looked a bit kilt-like, and I was not opposed. “Wow.” He grinned. “You like?” “I love.” He gave my hand a quick squeeze before letting go. “It’s a bit heavier. I don’t wear it in summer too often.” “That’s a travesty. You should wear that all the time.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Even in bed?” “Yep. Or over the table. Over the end of the couch. Maybe up against the kitchen counter? I could
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