Cyn was in silent awe.
“You’re beautiful,” she blurted and immediatly slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Well, thanks,” he chuckled awkwardly, “I like your singing.”
She laughed without humor. “Pfft, puhlease! I can’t sing to save my life.”
“You need saving?” He toyyed with his long bangs.
“I’m a riot,” Cyn bargained. It worked—he cracked a crooked smile.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Cyn, with a c and a y,” she told him.
“I’m Nix, with an x.”
“Groovy,” she snapped her fingers and stood up.
He held out a pale hand for help, she took it in hers and pulled him to his feet. Without even thinking about it their hands were enertwined.
“Where are we going?” Nix asked.
“Got anywhere in mind?”
“I’ve got a hankering for frenchy fries.”
“Bonjour McDonald’s!” Cyn giggled.
“You talk really cute,” he complimented.
“You’re my best friend, kay?” Cyn smacked her lips and kicked a pebble, swinging their hands as they walked.
“Sure, babe.”
“Ugh,” she groaned, “but no pet names.”
“Why?” he objected.
“Because.”