Meg was closer. He could reach out and run his hand through her hair. The last time he'd had his hands in her hair Meg had been up against a wall and her lips had been under his. He should not be thinking about that though those thoughts increased the warmth pooling in the lower half of his torso but he had no real answer to her question. A flush worked it's way above the collar of his shirt and up his face as he tried to think of some flirtation. He could think of poems but those would remind her of something very far from flirtation.
"I'm not doing very well. I can't stop thinking about your lips."