"Oh, I didn't even notice I had it on me," he murmured. He didn't pull away, letting me fuss over him without a single flinch. It was a stark contrast to how irritated he'd been when Miss Feller had left a mark; back then, he'd looked ready to scrub his skin raw.
"Is it gone?" he asked, his voice low as my movements slowed.
"Yes. It's gone." I swallowed hard, my fingers lingering for a fraction of a second too long before I pulled back and picked up the pack again. I couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't bothered at all.
"So, are we going to make micheladas?"
"Uhm—sure." His question acted like a cold splash of water, jump-starting my stalled brain. I still couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes, but at least I could form a coherent sentence. "I wonder if they are still playing dares, though."
"I'm not playing any more of those. We've played enough, don't you think?"
