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Friends. Did I seriously just say that? Why did I say that? Why couldn’t I just tell her the truth? I want to be so much more than just friends.
Faye’s the embodiment of everything pure in this world, like the furry, white heads of blooming dandelions swirling away in a summer breeze, or the way seafoam laps between your toes before dissolving into damp granules of sand.
Jesus. I want to hug her, touch her. I want to hold her in my arms and never let go.
“You’re so content with carrying all this weight on your shoulders. Now let me carry some of it for you.”
“When it’s fun sized and dangerously addictive like you, I am very afraid.”
I want to mean something to someone.” Faye means more to me than she’ll ever know.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I have two hands. Big hands. Hands big enough to handle a sweet little thing like you.”
“Princess, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous when you blush,”
Casanova.
“I have to shit!” I whisper-scream. No, no, no. I did not just say that.
oh my lord
