Xander splats the cinna-cake slice on a paper plate. “So a matching tattoo?” “Uh-huh.” I smile more. “He already has the design. I kinda hope it’s something galactic. An otherworldly link from him to me.” “You pretty much already have that without the tattoo, you know?” Leaning against the counter, Xander picks up the cake like a cinnamon roll. Pinched between two fingers. “You fell for him twice after you couldn’t remember him. Like, that’s fucking insane and on par with the sci-fi greats.”
