“My little bird has claws.” “Call me a bird one more time, and I’ll—” “What?” I demand, pressing my chest to hers so I feel her heart pounding right through my shirt. “You’ll do what? Shoot me? Stab me? Drown me in a sea of words?” “Fuck you.” “Is that an invitation?” “You wish, you arrogant prick!” She’s so mad, she’s almost spitting.
