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“Good morning,” Becca says, breezing into the break room.
Becca!
A pale pink bow is delicately wrapped around her ponytail that matches the distinct corded bracelet she wears every single day.
She always keeps Cord with her.
“If she wasn’t my co-worker, and I wasn’t on duty, and I wasn’t so fucked up that it would undoubtedly ruin everything between us eventually, I’d shoot my shot and pray that it works.”
sans
Sans means without. "sans push-ups" doesn't make sense.
“You’ll be mine after this,” he says. I look at him and smile, my heart filling with affection for this beautifully broken, good man. “I’m pretty sure I’m already yours. It’s just that neither of us have admitted it yet.”
was railing me
were railing me
“And once he finds out you’re mine, he better choose those calls carefully.”
No words are exchanged, but none are required. Troy just trusted me. That says it all.
I don’t have as much to give her, and what I do is broken and rusty. But it’s hers if she wants it. And I hope to hell she does. Because for the first time in my thirty-seven years on this planet, my future means more than my past.
“You’re always wet.” “Have you seen you?”
I’m already done. Dahlia stole my fucking heart when I didn’t think I even had one. I’ve intentionally avoided this situation, this level of vulnerability, my entire life. Truth be told, it wasn’t that hard. Until her.
I could largely logic away my anxiety.
