Distracted

Slabs of heat rose from the BBQ across the yard.  Pentor had always liked staring at columns of tangled warmth and smoke, warping the trees behind it like funhouse mirrors, and he didn’t mind sacrificing conversation with Betty to look.  There wasn’t much to lose anyhow.

Betty bit her ice cream with her teeth, trying hard not to give the wrong impression.  “I don’t think we’re a very good match,” she said.  “Oh, you don’t think so?” he chuckled with a playful grin.  She smiled.  “But how about seeing a movie with me and forgetting about it?”

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