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I want something. I want to be needed. Appreciated. Loved. No, I don’t just want it. I fucking crave it.
If you’ve ever wondered if thigh tattoos are hot, the answer is yes. So. Fucking. Hot.
“Don’t go dying on me, Rosie. I’m not ready to let you go yet. We’ve only just met.”
The man has a bubble butt.
“You know, Rosie. I wasn’t having the best day when I ran into you. Or rather, when my dog tackled you to the ground. Maybe he knew what he was doing, though. Because my day got a hundred times better after you fell into it.”
“You’re trouble, aren’t you?” That t-word sparks something inside me, something lost and broken, and I cling to Adam as he squeezes me for a moment that ends too soon. He gives Piglet’s chin a scratch, and with one last look in my direction, he winks at me. “See ya around, trouble.”
“And maybe me too,” I admit. “I, um…I liked walking with you. And talking with you. And eating you. No, fuck.” I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. “Fuck, no, that’s not what I—eating with you. Your sandwiches. Not your…” I gesture at her crotch. Holy fuck, I gestured at her fucking crotch. I’m turning into Garrett.
“An inch is very important.” “Oh, I completely agree. One inch might mean the difference between a disappointing night and one spent screaming for all the right reasons.”
“Because I gotta tell ya, Rosie, the thoughts I’ve been having would get just a friend into an awful lot of trouble.”
“Hidden…identity…” She underlines it three times. “I love this trope.”
All the best people help us find ourselves when we’re feeling lost.”
“I am kind. I am strong. I am beautiful. The people who are meant to be in my life will find me.”
“Got it. Two bottles of wine, an ice cream cone, and date number two.” He grins then, wide and full of mischief as his gaze drops to my legs. His hand lands on my knee, sliding along my bare skin, where he nabs the hem of my dress from where it’s ridden up my thigh. Gently, he shifts it back into place, eyes rising to meet mine, a fire blazing so hot, it singes my skin. “I can’t wait to unravel you.”
But for what it’s worth, Rosie, it’s not usually the space that makes a home. It’s the love. And I bet you give the best kind.”
“Why do you keep doing that?” I twine my hair around my finger. “Doing what?” “Covering your laugh.” “It’s not a laugh. It’s some sort of strangled, dying animal sound, and it’s embarrassing.” “Okay, well that’ll be weird.” “What will be weird?” “When someone asks me what my favorite sound is, and I have to describe it like that.”
“Your thoughts are painful, yes, but not morbid. I can’t put myself in your shoes, but I’d stand in them if it meant one less minute where you felt that pain alone.”
“A lot of my thoughts are about you,” she admits. I blow out a breath of relief and pull her into my chest. “Thank fuck, because all of mine are about you.”
“I’d kiss every fucking inch of this body, worship it all, make it my only religion if you’d only let me.”
“I don’t want this to go to your head, but it feels like I’m being politely split in half.”
“You were never his dirty secret, Rosie. You’re his world, and I’m pretty sure it’s stopped spinning since you’ve been gone.”
Where stems of bright pink peonies lie scattered around it, making this tree impossible to miss. Because even when he’s not here, he’s everywhere.
How many fucking shoes are there?
“I’m gonna marry you someday, after all. Batman always gets the girl.”
She unravels every string, and when she puts me back together again, I’m better than I was before. Whole, finally, and I don’t think I’ve ever been whole.
