“You should go back to bed.” “Why’s that?” she asks. “It’s not safe for you out here.” “Maybe I don’t want safe.” “You do,” I say as I take another swig of tequila, my brain feeling too fucking fuzzy to be close to her. “Or maybe I want to do something dangerous for once.” I shake my head, but she moves toward me and dances her fingers up my chest. “I’m trouble,” I say.
genuinly getting hard to read.
