“I thought you didn’t like holding hands,” I say.
“And you said you did,” he says.
“So, what? I just get whatever I want now?” I tease.
His smile flickers back into place, calm and restrained. “Yes, Poppy,” he says. “You get whatever you want now. Is that a problem?”
“What if I want you to have what you want?”
He arches an eyebrow. “Are you just saying that because you know what I’m going to say, and you want to make fun of me for it?”
“No?” I say. “Why? What are you going to say?”
Our hands go still between us. “I have what I want, Poppy.”