Somehow, the conversation turned to the topic of clothing.
She finally had the chance to ask about something that had puzzled her for a long time.
[Julian Fairchild, do you really like pink?]
Julian Fairchild saw the message and paused for a moment.
[Mm]
Maeve Lane was quite surprised.
[I thought you guys didn't really like that color.]
—"You guys."
Julian Fairchild instantly conjured up a mental image of a bunch of Maeve Lane's ex-boyfriends, and his expression darkened a bit.
[I like it.]
[Oh...] Maeve Lane edited, [That's quite... a unique preference.]
[Don't you like it too?]
Maeve Lane was taken aback for a second and replied:
[No, I prefer gray, black, and white.]
Julian Fairchild: [...]
He felt like he'd been deceived.
[You never liked pink?]
Maeve Lane didn't hesitate for even a second.
[No.]
Julian Fairchild: [...]
He didn't reply. With a scowl, he got out of bed and stuffed all his shirts in that color into a suitcase.
