“Do you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes. “Do you?” Ryan levels me with a look, serious and stoic. “I think you’re smart.” Oh. “Kind. Chaotic. A bit of a smartass and too charming for your own good.” Oh, wow. I like that answer much more than the one I was expecting, but I divert because his response is far too detailed and knowing of who I am. “So, you don’t think I’m pretty, then.” He chuckles. “Indy, I’m not blind, but even if I were, I’m pretty sure I could touch your face and understand just how fucking stunning you are, but it’s not the first thing I see anymore.” Well, fuck me.
