Again.
And again, something strange happens.
A little jolt.
Not electricity exactly.
More like comfort.
He helps me down, lifting me over a particular jagged rock like I weigh nothing.
Which is objectively untrue.
“Careful, I'm not petite,” I warn him.
His eyes widen in horror.
Actual horror.
Like I've deeply offended him.
“What?Honey, do you see yourself next to me?You’re a munchkin.”
I blink.
“A munchkin?”
“A cute one.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Maybe.Just don’t talk nonsense about yourself in front of me, and we’ll be fine.”
“I wasn't?—”
“You were.”
His voice softens.
“And I don't like it.”
My heart stutters.
Because no one has ever said that before.
Not like that.
Not like it hurts him.
Not like hearing me insult myself bothers him personally.
Which is weird.
We've known each other for—what?
Thirty minutes?
Forty?
