“You hate being my friend?” “Yes.” Oh god, that sounded violently emphatic. “I mean, no, I love being your friend, but it’s not all I want with you.” He takes a step, eyes locked with mine. I can see his hope there, right on the surface. “What do you want?” “Everything,” I choke out. “All the good stuff and the messy stuff and even the bad stuff. I want all of it.”
