“Lucy,” is all he can seem to say. “Lucy. How am I going to walk away from tonight? Seriously. How?”
I get goosebumps. I’m wondering the same thing. I let my head drop to one side, and we kiss.
I’m hoarse and breathless. “I’m gonna die tonight. Please take your pants off.”
“I want that embroidered on a pillow.”
―
Sally Thorne,
The Hating Game