Stubbornly lifting her chin, she taunts, “Can you take orders?”
Keeping my face straight is a hardship. Somehow, I manage and calmly answer. “Yes.”
She gives me a look saying I’m full of shit. If only she knew I would happily obey every order she throws at me, if it means she’ll take me back. I would crawl, drop to my knees, and plead if she told me to.