“You didn’t just make me want somethin’.
“You made me believe I’mallowedto want somethin’.
“That I could fight for it.
“That I fuckin’ deserve it. And it matters?—”
“Jesus, fuck—"He laughs, wipes a hand down his face, shrugs, not sure if the words coming out of his mouth are allowed to exist. “And now I think wanting you might be the first time I ever really chose myself.”
He stops, the truth sitting raw on his lips.
“And this isn't Type anymore. We both know that. We ain’t stretchin’ out a moment that’s dead. ‘Cause it’s not. This ain’t some memory I’m chasin’. This is right now. Still real. Still alive. Still hits—hard as fuck. Every time we’re together, it’s like... fuck, it feels good. We feel so fuckin'good. Like it’s always been supposed to be us.
“… So, yeah. T-bone after T-bone to the chest.
“I’m totaled.
“Wrecked.
“Undone.
“For you.
“You got me, alright?”
He expels another breath?—
half laugh, half surrender.
Then he drops whatever he was carrying.
“I’m standin’ here tongue-tied, fucked, and wantin’ you.”
He swallows, nods,
refusing to take any of it back.
“Iwantyou.
“Right fuckin’ now, Sonny. Real bad.
“I’m standin’ here, fuckin’achingfor you.”
“Andrew—” I cut him off,
and his mouth slams shut.
I’m leaned forward, eyes wide,
confused as fuck.
I shake my head, smiling, stupid and shaky.
“You tryna seduce me or scam me with sweet talk, huh? You tellin’ me you been‘not wantin’ anyone’with your mouth or dick for three hundred fuckin’ miles?”
I stare, trying to count every lie on his face.
Internally? Losing my shit.
