I’m different.
I wantfun.
I want Daphne to teach me how to have fun.
Maybe not put streaks in my hair, but they work on her.
Wait.
Wait.
I had this realization already. Yesterday.
If I’m having it two days in a row—fuck.
Fuckingdammit.
We agreed on three nights, but I’ve slept one of the days completely away, and yesterday was…something.
I need to convince her to stick with me longer.
“I don’t like how you’re staring at me,” she whispers.
For one split second, I picture myself pulling her into the bed with me.
Asking her to teach me to have fun.
Holding her hips.
Studying her breasts.
Showing me how to completely let loose and destroy this bed in ways that’ll make it necessary for me to pay for damages here.
I wonder if she tastes like those gummy bears she was eating in the car yesterday.
Sweet.
Maybe cherry-flavored. Maybe lime.
Maybe—
No.
No, no,no.
Maybenothing.
I’m disappearing. Starting a new life. Taking on a whole new identity, withnothingfrom my past to draw me back.
Especiallymy ex-fiancée’s unpredictable, chaotic little sister.
Who isnotattractive.
She’s trouble.
And shouldn’t I experience trouble? Especially fun trouble?
I lift my groggy head and turn it so I’m facing the other wall, ordering my brain to get a handle on itself. “Go away, Daphne.”
