“You’ve known me for one week, Scooter. You don’t know what I’m made for.” “I’ve known you a long time,” he says. His gaze is heavy on me, full of a million things unsaid. It’s like he knows a thing that I don’t know. Like he sees something I don’t. He takes my hand and entwines our fingers. I feel it all over my body and briefly forget where we’re going.
