He slides his glasses into his jacket,
then drops the next words stripped down.
“But the thought of you walkin’ outta here?”
His shoulders fall.
“Nah—can't let you do that.”
And that stops me.
I stare at him.
One sentence,
and I’m rethinking everything I told myself on the way to the door. “Glad you finally caught up to how batshit crazy this all is.”
His lips fall lopsided.
“Believe me—I’m feelin’ every damn second of it.”
I squint.
“And yet, you went full speed ahead.”
“Yeah, I fuckin' did, and I ain't sorry.”
I’m fighting a smile,
glancing at the door behind him,
fidgeting in place.
I should leave. I really,reallyshould.
“Hey—Sonny,” he says,
trying to pull me back to him.
“Please, please. One second.
“That’s all I’m askin’.”
My gaze moves back to his. He grips it tight.
“I know I’m comin’ on strong.
“But I ain’t playin’ with you.
“Not even a little.”
He leans back, searches my face, afraid he lost me. “I just met you and you already got me fucked up. I been tryin’ to be chill—swear to God, I have.”
His hand lifts halfway to my arm,
then drops, closing into a fist.
“But if you go right now? I’m fucked.
