Love on the Brain

“I can’t wait to sip your tears out of my new mug,” I murmur.

God. Oh, God. I think I like him.
“There’s one single format in which space is tolerable,” he says.
“Which is?”
“Star Wars movies.”
Oh, God.

“She was caught porking. On my desk.”

Is he thinking about what happened here twenty-four hours ago? Well, more like twenty-eight point five, but which maniac is counting?

I stop. Levi is staring at me open-mouthed. “I have hummingbird shit on my face, don’t I?”

“You’re some kind of fantasy. Built to do this. Built for me. Fuck, Bee.”

I didn’t let go of you for years, and I didn’t even have you.