Three Strikes and You're Mine

by R.S. Grey

If reading regency porn on the beach is wrong, throw me in handcuffs and haul me off to jail.

It hurts to love someone so much, to have your exposed heart walking around on two legs all day.

“I want you to know why, even though it’s completely obvious that I’ve got a big ol’ embarrassing crush on you, I haven’t acted on it.”

“I am insanely, annoyingly, couldn’t-stop-if-I-tried attracted to you. I have thought about kissing you a hundred times in a hundred ways.”

You see, what you do is this: behave badly and then pretend like you didn’t. It’s really that simple.

“I didn’t want to take any chances. Also, it’s my fictional scenario—why should I be friend-zoned?”

In my opinion, it’s not that easy being a kid. Being told what to do all the time, following directions, sitting still, minding your manners—it all gets to be too much sometimes. If Harper can’t express her feelings here, at home where she feels safe, where can she?

“Oh okay, for starters, I’m so attracted to you I can barely restrain myself when you’re in my presence. I’m a fool for you, constantly, wanting you every damn minute of the day.”

The crushing weight of a child’s love isn’t crushing at all. It’s weightless. Termless. Restriction-less.