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Yet again, my romance books proved right. Love is an accident. Something that occurs completely out of your control with no regard for your safety.
“Fine, if you wish. But I still think you should return after three days.” I skimmed his jawline, my smile tickling his stubble. “Why? Will you miss me?” He pursed his lips. “Longing is a Jane Austen invention premeditated to sell books.”
“We can have it now if that works for you? The date.” “Now’s perfect timing,” I confirmed. “My schedule is wide open.” “Let me just change.” I kissed her forehead. “I’ll wait.” Forever and beyond, if need be. She squinted at me. “Last time, you timed me.” “Last time, I was an asshole.” She giggled, stars in her eyes. Stars I’d put there. “And what are you now?” Now, I’m in love.
cafeteria. “And this is where I had my first kiss—with Lars Sheffield, my high school’s quarterback.” “Pity you mentioned him by name.” I laced my fingers through hers. “Now I have to kill him.”
“I’m in love with you, Dallas Costa. I love every piece of you. Every cell. Every breath. Every laugh. You’ve bewitched me, and I don’t want to leave this world thinking you don’t know how much you’ve changed me.”
“I’ll do anything for you,” I heard myself say, before the world turned black and the ambulances ceased to whine. “You’re my favorite plot twist.”
