"Okay!" I interrupt, my voice climbing several octaves.
"Okay, okay, okay. We're done. This conversation is over. I'm leaving. I'm going to walk backwards out of this apartment,
Get in my time machine, and travel to a dimension where I never saw Chase's bare ass."
"It's a great ass, though," Chase says thoughtfully. "Very sculpted. Hours of squats. You should feel honored."
"I'm going to murder you," I tell him flatly.
"Get in line," Mitchy mutters, but there's a smile tugging at her lips now, and her cheeks are flushed in a way that has nothing to do with embarrassment.
I look between the two of them—Chase still grinning like an idiot, Mitchy trying and failing to look annoyed—and despite the absolute mortification still coursing through my veins,
I can't help but feel something warm for
both of these idiots.
Mitchy looks happy. I mean, she also looks like she just got run through a car wash, but it was a happy wash.
