“And my dignity.”
“That was gone when you screamed like a squirrel and fell in the bush.”
He turns his head, giving me a look.
I smile.
His mouth twitches despite himself.
The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s charged. Heavy in the way silence becomes when two people are thinking about the same thing and pretending not to.
His gaze drops to my hand on the steering wheel. “You’re really not mad?”
“No.”
“You should be.”
“Probably.”
“But you’re not.”
“No.”
He shifts in the seat, turning slightly toward me. “Why?”
I keep my eyes on the road. “Because you’re not dangerous to me.”
He’s quiet for a beat. “I broke into your house.”
“You’re very bad at it.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It kind of is.”
“No, it isn’t.”
I glance at him. “Drew, if you were dangerous, Callie wouldn’t have stopped with the tennis racket.”
He considers that, then nods slowly. “That’s… oddly reassuring.”
“She has excellent follow-through.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.
Drew looks at me, like the sound surprised him. Like he wants to hear it again.
Something warm moves through my chest.
I look back at the road before I let too much of it show.
He drags a hand through his hair, frustrated and too endearing for his own good. “You make me insane.”
“I know,” I chirp.
“You’re not supposed to agree with that.”
