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“You want some soup or something? No offense, but you look like a corpse.” “Full offense, but you look like someone who deals weed to middle schoolers.”
😂🔊
“You look twelve, or something.” “And you look like someone who breaks kneecaps for the mafia,” he retorts.
I don’t want to argue about money. I want to keep enjoying the day and not have him worry about how he’s going to afford it. I want to be invited to more days like this, and if I have to buy that privilege, so be it.
I don’t really want to meet his friend and pretend to be nice. I want to eat, shower, and listen to Zeke talk about nerdy shit—preferably in that order. “Yeah, I guess I can.”
Carter is so down bad it’s cute
No offense to hockey or anything, but my interest in the sport starts and ends with you.”
“I don’t know, I just…he felt right, is all.” I blush as I say this, the tips of my ears burning. There’s no better way to explain it, though. Carter was inevitable.
“You and me, huh?” “Yeah,” I agree, “you and me.”
“Jesus, no, I mean yes, of course I’ve liked you. What I meant is that I just realized that I like you. Like, I want to kiss you. And we should have sex, sometime.”
“I really like you, Carter Morgan. I like you more than I’ve ever liked anybody before.”
“Max, this is Zeke. He is the best thing that has ever happened to Carter.”
