Page 64 of One Week in Paris
He turns his gaze to his phone, and I’m getting mildly annoyed. Yet I’m still very curious.
Yes, but doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun. Texting is harmless.
Now, I’m just getting plain frustrated.
No, it’s not. You’re a dog. That’s so not like you.
He’s still tapping away. Apparently, the conversation is not over.
How are you and your brother getting along?
Now, he’s just starting to piss me off.
Fine, thank you. And he’s NOT my brother!
—
I can’t believe you’re sitting next to him. Are you really dating him?
That’s it. I’m done with this pointless conversation.
None of your business. Bye
He taps away again. My phone pings but I ignore it. As curious as I am, seeing that message could never be as satisfying as the look on his face when I glare at him and don’t bother to look at his reply.
