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If it’d been daylight, I might’ve actually seen him blush. But it was night, so I could only catch the furrowing of his brows and hear the irritation in his voice when he demurred, “I would never be so dramatic,” only to make a big, dramatic show of snapping his reins to urge Mint on ahead of me.
I grinned after him.
Farrow had been jealous.
That meant he liked my attention.
That meant he liked me.
This was a start. This was
a damn good start.
13
Farrow
I was jealous.
Of some stupid bugs.
And what was worse, Nicolette had caught on and called me out on it.
Jesus, how humiliating.
But damn it all, since the moment we’d left Donnelly together, she’d been nothing but interested in me, trying to learn more about me or tell me about herself, trying to convince me we shared a special bond. And then bam, the terrible-spelling scorpions had come along, and suddenly she was like Farrow? Who’s Farrow?
Not that I wanted her to pester me with all that love-mark nonsense. It was just that the abrupt absence of her constant attention had left me feeling forsaken.
Okay, maybe forsaken was too dramatic of a word.
But she’d just completely stopped talking to me. And this itching, nagging place inside me craved to have some of her attention back.
I scraped a hand over my face and groaned aloud. What was this girl doing to me?
She trotted up beside me, and my stomach knotted with tension and irritation.
And longing. Jesus, I fucking longed for her overly cheerful, way-too-gullible, yet utterly adorable attention.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel ignored.” She sounded truly regretful.
I ground the back of my molars together hard. Now she was going to talk to me out of pity. It was more than I could take.
“I didn’t feel—”
Her scream cut me off.
“Nicolette?” I shot her a worried glance, only to find her—
Not there.
“Nicolette!”
“Farrow!”
I looked down. She’d shrunk about two feet.
“I’m sinking.”
