You bought me plastic ware," he said. "Didn't you?'
"No," I growled, picking at my license plate.
"You did!" he hooted, laughing out loud. "You bought me some forks. And knives. And spoons. Because—"
"No," I said loudly.
"—you love me!" He grinned, as if he'd solved the puzzler for all time, as I felt a flush creep across my face. Stupid Lissa. I could have killed her.
"It was on sale," I told him again, as if this was some kind of an excuse.
"You love me," he said simply, taking the bag and adding it to the others.
"Only seven bucks," I added, but he was already walking away, so sure of himself. "It was on clearance, for God's sake."
"Love me," he called out over his shoulder, in a singsong voice. "You. Love. Me.

Autore: Sarah Dessen