“My pizza is not gross,” I pout. Bentley laughs. “Whatever you say, baby girl.” “Don’t patronize me, Bent.” He presses a palm to his chest and gasps. “I would never. I’m just sayin’, if you want to make out with me during the movie, could you maybe pop a mint first?” I give him my best stink-eye. “Don’t worry, Bentley, my mouth won’t be getting anywhere near yours.” “We’ll see about that.” He winks.
