Felix tosses a fry into the air and catches it perfectly in his mouth, grinning like he's winning a gold medal.
"Show-off," I tease, nudging him with my shoulder.
"Please, I'm a man of many talents," he says, smirking. But then the smirk fades a little, softening into something quieter. His gaze drifts back out over the ocean, thoughtful. "Most of them useless, though."
I study him in the dim light, the way the shadows carve into his cheekbones, the way the wind tousles his blonde hair even more. It's strange seeing him like this—unmasked, even for just a moment.
"You don't have to be good at something for it to matter," I say, surprising even myself with the words.
Felix chuckles lowly, almost like he doesn't believe me. "Tell that to my old man. Or, you know, my last three exes last month."
There's a sharpness under the joke, barely hidden. It makes me hesitate. Then, cautiously, I ask, "Is that why you joke so much? So people don't dig too deep?"
