why doesn’t our friendship feel like what you share with my brothers? You don’t come to me like you do them.” I shrugged. “Our friendship is different.” “Why?” he pressed. “Why does our friendship have to be different?” “Because I haven’t kissed your brothers,” I said with a laugh, tossing a pillow at him. “And I can’t say I’ve daydreamed about tearing off their clothes like I have you.”
