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“You’re hurt,” I say.
Brilliant observation.
Gold star for me.
“I’ve been worse,” he replies.
“Stop saying that.”
“Why?”
“Because it doesn’t make it better.”
A beat.
Then—
“It makes it accurate.”
I glare at him.
He doesn’t back down.
Of course he doesn’t.
Unbelievable.
I drag a hand through my hair, turning away from him before I do something even worse.
Like kiss him again.
“…this is exactly what I didn’t need…” I mutter.
“What part?” he asks.
I turn back slowly.
“All of it.”
Lie.
We both know it.
His mouth twitches.
Just slightly.
And that—
That is dangerous.
“Then we stop,” he says.
Simple.
Direct.
Like it’s easy.
