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“You did that. But I did clean off your makeup.”

Kota’s eyes find somewhere else to be. Anywhere but near me.

“I take it you remember that part?” And I’m guessing what happened after the makeup removal.

At first, she scratches her ear, and I let it slide. But when those fingers make their way to the hairline behind it, I relocate her hand to the spot behind my ear instead.

“What are you doing?” She tries to pull away.

“Hurt me.”

Her fingers curl but she doesn’t scratch me, not painfully anyway, and I fight a whole-body shiver.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You do every time you put your hands in your hair.”

“It’s not what you think.”

It’s exactly what I think. I’ve felt the scabs myself. There were eighteen last night. It’s down from my last count but not enough. I won’t be satisfied until there’s zero.

“I’m not gonna sit here and watch you hurt yourself.”

“I’m not hurting myself. I’m…”

This time when she tugs her arm away, I let her. But I keep my eye on it.

“Why do you do it?”

“It’s soothing, like a cigarette.”

“You smoke?” That’s news to me.

“No. But everyone has something that calms them. At least my coping mechanism isn’t killing me.”

“No, it’s just mutilating you.”

“Nobody can see the damage I’m causing.”

“Mm.” I pretend to consider that. “Smokers think the same thing every time they light up.”

“Someone woke up on their high horse this morning.”

Letting the insult sail right past me, I shrug. Couldn’t be me. I woke up under a cheerleader.

“I’ve never been called a horse before, only hung like one.” Maybe I’m funny after all.

Although, the unamused roll of Kota’s eyes says otherwise.

“I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t have sex last night.”

“We’ll make up for it today.”

“I’m not having sex with you.”

“Why not? Because my dick is too big?” Now that’s funny. “We’ll make it fit,” I promise her.

“No. Because I don’t know enough about you.”