“I. Didn’t. Even. Touch. Her,” he said, slowly now, his eyes glittering in the dark, boring into mine. “We went on a few dates, mainly in hopes you’d find out and see that I’d moved on from your ass. I don’t remember where. I don’t remember what she wore. What we talked about. I only remember how she made me feel.” “How?” “Bored to fucking tears.” “She wasn’t what you were looking for?” I licked my lips, feeling guilty about drawing so much pleasure from hearing this. “She wasn’t you.”
