Page 50 of Take It on Faith

A storm cloud hung over me and Andrew through most of dinner that night. I think the band felt it because even though they laughed and talked amongst themselves, they didn’t bother trying to interact with either of us.

I picked at my fries, trying not to look at Andrew, sitting right next to me. I could feel the warmth of his irritation coming off of him like a cheap space heater. Finally, after twenty minutes of being ostracized from the band’s friendly conversation, I turned to him. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes flicked to mine then back down to his plate. “For what?”

“You were right; it isn’t any of my business who you spend your free time with.” I poked at a fry with my fork. “And I don’t know why it bugged me so much.”

A ghost of a smile lit up his face. A spark of mischief curled the edges of his mouth.

Not that I was looking at his mouth.

“You’re nosy—that’s why it bugged you,” he said. He nudged my foot with his own. “It’s okay to admit that you’re nosy. I already knew that about you.”

“Shut up,” I said though I laughed. “I’m not nosy.”

“You’re nosier than a bored housewife, Ace. And terrible at hiding it.”

“I will not have you lie on my name like this.” I pretended to look away and crossed my arms.

“It’s okay to admit it, Ace,” he said, leaning toward me in a way that made the room spin a bit. “Go on, say it. ‘Andrew, I like to be all up in your business.’”

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes. “Say it. It’s the only way I’ll forgive you for your gross miscalculation of my character.”

I sighed. “Fine, fine. Andrew, I like to be all up in your business.”

He grinned. “See, now was that so hard?”

I pushed his arm and laughed. “Whatever. Are you gonna eat that pickle?”

“I always save my pickle for you.” I blushed, and his grin grew decidedly sly. He snagged a fry from my plate and replaced it with the pickle. I looked at him as he munched happily.

“So, am I forgiven?” I asked.

His eyes danced as they flashed to mine. “Always,” he said.

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