And this was when he cracked his first smile. âWhat? I thought it was just adorable!â Maybe it was the bad nickname, or a lack of mouthwash on her part â but Imogen really was salty, today. Pressing a hand against his heart, he let out a half-hearted sound of despair. âCome for me where it hurts, why donât you.â Moving that same hand to run through the aforementioned greasy hair, he gave yet another shrug. âI dunno, a few years, maybe?â
Imogen crossed her arms over her chest as she glared down Fletcher. He really knew how to be a pain in her ass, but for some reason she seemed to enjoy their banter. Maybe it was because he was the one person who could keep up with her, joking or not, it didnât matter. âYouâre disgusting.â She scoffed as she watched his hand slide through his mop. âCome on Fletch, let me take you over to the dunk tank. I know its technically closed but I can just pour a few gallons of shampoo in there, that might fix some of the damage.â










