"What—why?!" Talia's voice cracked. "Don't you like me? I like you!"
She tapped her two index fingers together in the most painfully adorable, awkward way possible, her eyes wide and pleading.
Zarah didn't even pretend to soften. She just answered flatly:
"You talk too much."
"Ouch…" Talia breathed, clutching her chest like someone had shot her point-blank.
Then she doubled down, wobbling a little as she asked:
"So is that a yes—you like me—or a no?" she asked hopefully.
"It sounds like a no," I added, deadpan.
Talia snapped her glare toward me, sharp enough to cut through steel, and then she turned back to Zarah, desperate.
"Don't you want to get to know me at least?"
Zarah narrowed her brows, genuinely confused.
"Why would I want to do that?"
Talia staggered back a step, gripping her chest with both hands this time.
"How cruel…" she whimpered.
I couldn't help the quiet chuckle that slipped out as I watched them.
