“Y-you know it wouldn’t work between us, though.” “It would,” he insists. “But I’m . . . me, and you’re you, and we just, we argue too much.” “It doesn’t matter,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “It does.” He shakes his head. “You’d be bored if we didn’t.” “You’re the one who’ll get bored of me.” His expression softens. “Is that what you think?”
