Well, it was nice while it lasted.
“Rafe!” I screeched as I dug a spoon into my muesli the next morning. “There’s a snail in my cereal!”
“I thought you liked escargot,” Rafe shot back. “It’s French.”
Oooooh, I’m going to GET him for this! I thought, and the thought actually made me kind of… happy.
It had only been a few hours, but I’d missed the sneak attacks. The tactics. The squealing. The repartee. (Look it up. Merriam-Webster has an online dictionary.)
Hey, it’s nice when Rafe is being sweet. But it’s more fun when he’s being Rafe.