Jasper: Favorite meal?
Me: Breakfast for dinner
Jasper: Strong answer.
Me: Yours?
Jasper: Gumbo.
Me: Also predictable
Jasper: You wound me.
Me: Next question.
Jasper: Beach or mountains?
Me: Mountains
Jasper: I knew it.
Me: Then why ask?
Jasper: I like being right.
I shook my head, smiling at the screen.
Me: Beach or mountains?
Jasper: Depends who I’m with.
My smile faded. There were at least a dozen harmless ways to read that answer. Naturally, my brain chose none of them.
Me: That’s cheating
Jasper: It’s strategy.
Me: You’re bad at this game
Jasper: You’re still playing.
I set my phone down and exhaled slowly.
Nash was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “You like this guy.”
“I don’t—”
“Fi. Come on. I’ve known you for two years. You don’t smile at your phone like that unless you’re into someone.”
Absently, I picked at the edge of my phone case. Nash was my friend—one of the few people my age I actually trusted. Maybe saying it out loud would make it sound less ridiculous.
“Okay,” I admitted. “Maybe I like him. A little.”
“A little?”
“Fine. A lot.”
Nash grinned. “Does he know?”