"You're killing me," he grumbled.
"I was trying to help," I mumbled.
"Helping would be not teasing me and putting more clothes on," he said as I walked past him.
I turned my head to give him a sly smile.
"I could put on all the clothes in my closet right now and still help you out with that, Brixton," I replied, my eyes flickered to his tented pajama pants. "My mouth does more than just talk back." Then I threw him a wink of my own before rushing back to my bedroom.
I was feeling giddy and confident. I had no idea where the confidence suddenly came from, but I loved it for myself. I thought that I would leave Brixton stumped in the kitchen, but much to my surprise, I heard him stomping after me. I looked back to see him charging my way with a wicked grin on his face.
I squealed as m
