Page 76 of Don't Google Me
Annie turned her face toward the sun.
Her sunglasses hid her eyes, but the corner of her mouth lifted.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“That looked specific.”
“I was thinking about last night.”
My stomach performed a small, unnecessary flip.
“Which part?”
“The music.”
I stared at her.
She kept a straight face for two seconds before laughing.
“That was cruel.”
“I’m learning from you.”
“You’re progressing quickly.”
“The instructor is excellent.”
I took a sip of coffee to give my mouth something responsible to do.
“Any regrets?”
Her smile softened.
“About the music?”
“Annie.”
“No.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“No regrets.”
I looked toward the horizon before my face could become too informative.
“Good.”
“What about you?”
“I regret the second sauce.”
“That was your choice.”
“You distracted me.”
“With what?”
