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“He stares at me, his eyes focused and brow furrowed as he absorbs what I said, his lips pouting. It’s his Editing Expression, and when it clears, he shakes his head and says, “No.” I laugh, surprised. “What?” He straightens, steps in close. “I said, no.” “Charlie. What’s that even mean?” “It means,” he says, eyes glinting, “you’ll have to do better than that.” I smile despite myself, hope thrashing around in my belly like a very determined baby bird with a broken wing. “I’ll expect notes by Friday,” he says.” — Emily Henry
He stares at me, his eyes focused and brow furrowed as he absorbs what I said, his lips pouting. It’s his Editing Expression, and when it clears, he shakes his head and says, “No.”
I laugh, surprised. “What?”
He straightens, steps in close. “I said, no.”
“Charlie. What’s that even mean?”
“It means,” he says, eyes glinting, “you’ll have to do better than that.”
I smile despite myself, hope thrashing around in my belly like a very determined baby bird with a broken wing.
“I’ll expect notes by Friday,” he says.