“It’s perfect,” she whispered, her head still thrown back.
“Yeah,” I agreed. But my eyes were fixed on her, and I knew we weren’t talking about the same thing.
“I just don’t get you.”
“You don’t have to get me.” I raised my eyes. “All I asked was that you do the same thing that you’ve done for the past four years and just ignore me. Just pretend like I don’t exist. But you couldn’t do that. Was there a point to that little charade in the gym?”
“I like you in my clothes, Not Abby.”
Then he turned around and walked away.