Once.
Like I just said, something offensive.
“I’m always leading.”
“Not today.”
“Yeah,” he replies. “That’s not happening.”
I step closer.
Closer than necessary.
On purpose.
“Try me.”
There it is.
That spark.
That tension.
That thing that feels a little too much like—
Something else.
He doesn’t back down.
Of course he doesn’t.
But I don’t either.
Also a problem.
“You’re injured,” I say, quieter now. “That means you’re not making the calls.”
“I’m still the one who got you out,” he shoots back.
“I didn’t need saving.”
“You were being chased by armed men.”
“I had a plan.”
“You had a problem.”
I narrow my eyes.
He almost smiles.
Oh, he is enjoying this.
Unbelievable.
“…this is why I don’t like you,” I mutter.
“Yeah?” he says. “That seems mutual.”
