“You think I’m pretty?” Dustin’s never had a cop, ex or otherwise, call him pretty in a nice way. He’s had “pretty boy” sneered at him like an insult, but Dustin doesn’t think Ronan is being cruel.
“Yes. You have to know how you look, right? I mean, I see people looking at you wherever we go, you have to notice that,” Ronan says softly.
“People look at me because I’m weird, because I’m a psychic in huge shoes, with purple hair,” Dustin points out.
“The way I see people looking at you, it’s not like they think you’re strange. I might not be a psychic, but I can read people—part of my job. People look at you with desire. Maybe you should notice that more,” Ronan says, blushing slightly.
He looks cute when he blushes.
Dustin sighs. “I guess the same way you’re used to acting like the cop you were, I’m still stuck thinking I’m the loser I was in high school.”
“You didn’t have a lot of friends?” Ronan asks.