“I can’t get enough of you,” he says, eyes so dark and serious that I wonder if he’s thought the words before but is only saying them now because he’s drunk. My throat burns with the need to say well actually, I can’t get enough of you either. In fact, I’m in love with you and wondering if you could possibly reconsider the whole I don’t do serious thing. I, of course, don’t say any of that. Not now and maybe not ever.
