The morning drifted by in a haze of laughter, the kind that came easy, the kind I didn't get to have often.
Belle sat by my bed, her arms folded like she was trying to look stern, but the faint blush still painted her cheeks. She'd been trying to hide it ever since earlier… and obviously, I wasn't going to let that slide.
"So tell me," I said, resting my head against the pillow, smirking, "is blushing contagious, or are you just permanently red now?"
She turned her head just enough to glare in my general direction. "Maybe it's an allergic reaction," she said flatly. "To idiocy."
I gasped, clutching my chest dramatically. "I'm wounded."
"You've been wounded."
"This one's emotional," I said, sighing like some tragic hero.
"Good. Those take longer to heal."
I grinned. "You're cruel."
"And you're insufferable."
"Perfect match, then."
