So tell me about you. Who is Pippa, in the broad scheme of things?" He winks. I...

So tell me about you. Who is Pippa, in the broad scheme of things?" He winks.
I return the smile. "Well, I'm an only child, born and raised in Chicago--"
"Ah, Chicago. That's the accent."
"I told you before, I don't have an accent."
"To ears you don't." He laughs. "But it's definitely there to the rest of us."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No," he says. "It's cute."
Oh, I might die. A boy used the word "cute." And when describing something about me. I can't look at him.
"Well, I can't really hear your accent," I say.
"That's what happens when you move all the time. I can sound like I'm from wherever I want."
"Prove it. Let's hear a British accent."
"I think technically it's called an accent, and no. I don't work on demand."
I give Darren a little shove. "Come on, pansy. Just a wee little sampling," I say, attempting the accent myself.
He bites back a laugh. "That was…rubbish. And Scottish, if we're being picky."
"Hey!" I say, shoving him harder like I'm twelve.