There was something almost ridiculous about the way Amara jabbed her finger at Hansen's phone, like she was threatening a very confused squirrel instead of a grown man. "So, this is my number," she declared, leaning back as though she had just handed him state secrets. "I swear on my future wrinkles, Hansen, if you ghost me, I'll track you down and hit you. And I mean hit you. Not a slap. A full punch."
Hansen snorted so loudly the barista two tables over looked up.
He wasn't even bothering to hide his grin. "I-I wouldn't dare," he said, clicking the save button with exaggerated obedience. "Look, see? Saved. Locked in. Protected by two-factor authentication."
"Good," she muttered, crossing her arms, but the corner of her mouth twitched. It was impossible to stay stern around him for more than three seconds. The universe wouldn't allow it.
