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Hannah Wells is…amazing. She’s so fucking attuned to me, my moods, my pain. I’ve never been with anyone who can read me so well.
“Yeah, but you still love me.” Her breath hitches. “Yeah. I do.” Her green eyes shine up at me. “I love you.”
I know that when she says she loves me, she actually means me—Garrett—and not Briar’s hockey star, or Mr. Popularity, or Phil Graham’s son. She loves me.
I register what song is playing in the car. My eyes fly open. “Did you re-download One Direction?” Her mouth twitches. “No…” “Uh-huh. So why is ‘Story of My Life’ playing?” I demand. She pauses, then lets out a big sigh. “Because I like One Direction. There. I said it.” “You’re lucky I love you,” I warn her. “Because I wouldn’t stand for it otherwise.” Hannah grins. “You’re lucky I love you. Because you’re a total asshole and there aren’t a lot of girls who’d put up with it.” She’s probably right about the asshole thing. She’s definitely right about the lucky part.
God, he’s such a jackass. I love him.
“I love you, Garrett,” I choke out. His husky voice tickles my lips. “I love you, Hannah.” Then he kisses me, and everything in my world is right again.
“I’d fuck… Garrett Graham.” She kisses my cheek. “I’d marry…Garrett Graham.” She kisses my other cheek. “And I’d kill…anyone but Garrett Graham.” She kisses my lips,

