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She glares daggers into me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say I actually felt the prick of them on my skin.

“You’re going to go anyway. I don’t feel like bargaining anymore.”

Way to ruin my fun.

Because it is fun. I want more of this bantering, or arguing, or whatever it is. I want to sit here and fool around and get to know all the reasons why she’s likethis.I could write a couple hundred page book on why I am the way I am, but I have a feeling hers would be in the thousands.

She’s in a good mood and it scares me.

“October seventeenth,” she says as I approach. She’s sitting in my chair, and appears to have been waiting for me.

I eye her suspiciously.

“What?”

“You wanted my birthday. October seventeenth. Be sure to get me a gift,” she says.

“Okay…” I draw the word out, making it ten times as long.

She’s smiling wide, too wide for my comfortability.

“No, now is the part where you tell me yours.”

“July twelfth,” I mutter on autopilot. If I had any sense, I would have withheld that answer in order to get more out of her. “Are you high?” I ask.

“I wish,” she admits. “No, just got some good news. Feeling generous.”

“What’s the news?” I wholly expect her to shut me down, but she beams even brighter.

Fuck, she is so stunning that I have to close my eyes in order to not be blinded by it.

“My parents are getting divorced!” She says the words with the same tone that one might announce they won the lottery.

“That’s… good?” I take a guess.

“I’ve been waiting years for this day.” She leans back, closing her eyes, all the joy in the world still on her face.

“Do you hate your parents?”

“Just one of them.”

I don’t know what else to say, this is more than she’s ever shared with me.

“I’m having whiplash.”

She chuckles, her eyes still closed.

“Don’t make it a thing. Sit down.”

How can I not make it a thing? This is such a thing. Last night she was her usual closed off self, and less than twenty four hours later, I have more than I know what to do with.

“You know who I am, right?”

I have to make sure.

“Not technically. What’s your name?”

My brows raise, the absurd realization that we haven’t previously exchanged this information hitting me so hard. I laugh loudly.