After some time had passed, I thought I heard someone knocking on my door, so I bent the quilt back across my face and listened. When the knocking came again, I got up, went over to the door and opened it just a little. With his hands in his pockets, Alex was standing at the door giving me a black look. I was pretty sure that this guy never laughed in his life.
“What?” I snapped.
“Hmm … let me see. Would you be OK with some assassin roaming around your apartment?”
“I’m not an assassin, Princess,” he grumbled.
Shooting daggers at me, he really seemed serious, and I almost believed him.
“Yeah, right. Just like I’m a prima ballerina,” I shouted before closing the door in his face and going back to bed.