There's was the flippant flip of a smirk, for his earlier words, but she paused when he reached out and brushed her hair back. A simple, easy gesture, without much thought to it at all. Well. Not much thought to touching her, or what she might think, or how she might react. Just casual, and easy, that brush of contact with the question.

It still makes something stutter in her chest for just a second. A kind of ache she can't describe, or word at all.

Jo pushed up from her spot on the stair next to him, and shoving over his box as she moved, sat herself down on the step below his, where the box had been, slipping between his feet. Casual as the first one touch of his hand, habit in some ways, that wasn't exactly, but she could walk those steps and say it was, that she knew it was. Whether it was or wasn't.

She could throw a smirk over her shoulder, and just ask, while waiting for him to start,
"Is this your way of saying you're not admitting you like me, then?"