Before he could respond, she pulled a yogurt cup from her bag and wedged it between Jay's crossed arms. "Here. A tip for the view."
She had just bought it from the supermarket's refrigerated section, and it was still freezing cold.
Jay kept his arms crossed. The yogurt rested right in the crook of his folded arms, pressed directly against his chest. The sharp chill seeped straight through his shirt.
"I don't eat this kind of thing," he said, uncrossing his arms. The cup slid down his arm, and he caught it effortlessly.
But Amy had already committed to the bit. After handing it off, she ignored him entirely and resumed her march toward Petty's room.
Jay squeezed the plastic cup, his face completely expressionless. His dark brown eyes locked onto the long, wavy hair swaying against Amy's back.
Suddenly, there was a rustle from the plastic bags in Amy's hands. With a sharp snap, the yogurt cup dropped perfectly back into her bag.
She spun around to look at Jay, who was standing a good ten feet away. He had tossed it straight in.
What an aim.
Meeting her stunned gaze, Jay said flatly, "Eat it yourself."
For some inexplicable reason, a little thrill fluttered in Amy's chest.
She gripped her bags and turned, taking long strides into Petty's room.
Petty had just finished her soup. When she looked up, she saw Amy bustling in with her groceries.
"I need to ask you something," Amy said, setting the supermarket bags on the table. She sat down next to Petty, took the empty soup bowl, and grabbed a tissue to hand to her.
Petty wiped her mouth slowly. "Yeah?"
Ever since Petty had fallen ill, Amy had refused to treat her like a fragile patient. She insisted on chatting with her exactly as they always had.

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