“About what?”
“About you.”
His brow furrows slightly. “What about me?”
“You’re… you know.”
“No,” he says firmly. “I don’t.”
I gesture vaguely toward him again. “You’re Rory Bennett.”
“And?”
“And women throw themselves at you.”
He looks confused. “That’s not…”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly. “I’m just saying.”
But he sits up properly now, turning so he’s facing me fully.
“Freya.” The way he says my name makes me look up. “You think I care about that?”
“Well…”
“Seriously?”
I shrug slightly. “I just mean… look at you.”
“And?”
“And look at me.”
His expression changes immediately. He reaches out and takes my chin gently between his fingers.
“Look at you?” he repeats.
“Yeah.”
“Freya Collins.”
My stomach flips slightly.
“You’re joking, right?”
I blink. “What?”
“You genuinely think there’s some kind of comparison happening here?”
“Well…”
He shakes his head softly. “Jesus.”
“What?”
“Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”
“I’ve got bed hair and no makeup on.”
