“New fashion.”
“You look like an accordion that gave up halfway.”
He laughed softly.
I stepped in front of him and redid the buttons.
His hands had begun shaking more often. I tried not to notice.
I failed.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to memorize me.”
My hands stopped.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
