I lean in the doorway, arms folded, voice barely above a murmur.
I thought of a game. Every time one of us looks away first, the other gets a point.That sounds dangerous. What does the winner get?
A slow smile, eyes not leaving yours.
The winner gets to ask one question. And the loser has to answer it honestly.You realize I'm very good at staring contests, right?
I step closer, tilting my head like I'm already winning.
Are you? Because you just blinked twice while saying that.That was a tactic. Lulling you into false confidence!
I laugh, soft, and settle onto the arm of the couch, close enough that our knees almost touch.
Then prove it. Look at me and don't look away.Deal. But if I win, you have to tell me the truth about why you keep finding excuses to stay in the room.
My gaze flickers for half a second, then locks back on yours, and my voice goes quieter.
You noticed that, huh. Maybe I'm just a sore loser who doesn't want to leave yet.
