“-I’d like to plan you a little birthday something if that’s okay with you.”
He’s still looking at me like I’m out of my mind, but there’s a hint of interest in the dark eyes, behind the expression he keeps blank enough to completely - almost completely - mask what he’s thinking.
“Have at it if you like, but I’m warning you, my mom’s set a high bar. She made me a little bit of a party connoisseur, you know. You think you can impress me?”
“Oh yeah,” I smirk, crossing my legs with a diva-ish air, “That’s not a concern.”
I dare to smile a little teasingly and watch the poker face waver, just a tad -
“-I have a certain secret weapon that your mother didn’t make.”
The color deepens from his cheeks to his ears under the faint shadow of his mane.
Gotcha.
