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320 pages, Hardcover
First published October 24, 2017
The department store salesgirl with one false eyelash dangling over her left eye (she must have thought it was a bug and kept swatting at it thusly) assured me that cup size doesn’t necessarily correspond to how large one’s breasts are.
“Asshole,” I chide my torso. “Can’t you do something about this? Use your massive girth to bully it out of me?” My boobs don’t answer. “Thanks a lot. See if I let Jesse Rothem touch you again anytime soon.”
This is etched into my skin. This is real. This is forever.
This is a stranger's name.
I don't even know what to believe about why or how the Names are here: religion, magic, chemistry. It's all so arbitrary and abstract. And it still doesn't explain a damn thing.
It tells me that I'm not speaking 100 percent truth. That, although minuscule, there is a part of me that wants to know something - anything - about Hendrix Cutter.
Which is why I better fall in love with someone else damn quick.
Are we moving too fast? Is there time to move slower? Do I want to move slower? Plus I need to have sex so I can one-up my best friend on her emojis.
I wish Luke and I had more to talk about. Or less to talk about. Or that the use of U didn't disturb me so. Still, I shall persevere. Because it is my choice. Even if I have to force myself to do it.