I wasn't even thinking about it, Reagan insisted, and though Luke wasn't generally the sarcastic type, he couldn't help but laugh lightly. "You're eighteen, grey bird," he said, bemused. "Of course you're thinking about it. Maybe not right now, but you're certainly gonna."
When she took off down a separate path, Luke abandoned the (more or less aimless) direction he'd been walking in and followed her instead, smiling a little at the way she kicked her shoes off so brusquely. He might have done the same, if he hadn't been wearing the kind you had to unlace. "But okay. Neither of us will, then."
He stepped a little quicker to catch up with her, reaching out his hand to catch hers. "Hey," he said. A heavy silence hung over him for a second, the wind circling around his waist, then up through his hair. "Thank you."