by Cleo Page
We stayed like that for a minute, looking at each other, my hand on Randall’s chest. Then it hit me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something was different. It took me a second to figure out what it was. At least, what I thought it was. The thing is, what I thought was different really didn’t make any sense as to how it could even be different.
“Randall,” I said. “I could have sworn you didn’t have any hair on your chest earlier. Is it possible I just didn’t notice?”
“Well, Connor,” Randall began slowly, “I suppose anything is possible.” He paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Why don’t we get dressed and grab some breakfast, Ms. Lyall. I think I need to fill you in on some things.”