“I don’t like who either of us becomes when we’re together,” he said. I scoffed. “You think I like this?” “I think you love it.” Had he moved closer? Or was I leaning toward him? My knees were almost close enough to brush the sharp creases of his trousers. We were magnetized to each other. Enemies drawn together again and again. I was so damn tired of it. There was an electric tension growing in the space between us. Like when the hair on your arms stands up just before a lightning strike.
