“I’m kinda…” “Kinda?” “In love with him?” My words were muffled. “And by kinda, I mean—totally, completely, utterly in love with him. Stupid in love. Ridiculously in love. Like—I would literally kiss the ground he walked on, kind of in love. The kind in movies, and books—and audiobooks. The stupid kind. That makes no sense—but makes all the sense at the same time—”
