“Do you have a piece of paper?” I ask keeping my eyes on the expressway, both hands on the steering wheel.
“For what?” He answers my question with a question while scrolling through a playlist on his phone.
He says nothing, but instead holds his hand out near my chin.
I stare at the hand that was so close to my face for a solid second before returning my attention back to the road. “Your hand is not a piece of paper.”
He selects a song, one I’ve never heard before, but continues on looking for another song to play next.
“I had no idea, Captain Obvious.” A small grin starts to tug the corner of his lips as he lightly pinches my chin and I make a face. “C’mon,” he says, his tone still playful. “I know how much you hate gum when it loses its flavor. Spit it out.”
“What?” I say even though I heard him clear as day. “No, that’s disgusting.”
“Disgusting?” This is when he finally looks up and raises an eyebrow. “We exchange saliva with our mouths and don’t even get me started with-”
“You’vemadeyourpoint,” I say, not wanting him to finish his sentence, in a rush, cheeks heating up.
I spit the gum out.