it’s scary to be a straight woman when you never know if your new crush might actually be a closeted racist, a serial killer, or a cryptocurrency enthusiast. So,
He tips his chin up in offering, and at last, I kiss him—open-mouthed and greedy. It’s divine. It’s music, and poetry, and every other overblown metaphor I’ve ever heard about kissing.
Because if you can convince yourself you already know how it ends, then you get to walk away without having to actually be a real person and live your life.
Yes!
Welcome back. Just a moment while we sign you in to your Goodreads account.