She doesn’t believe in love. Told me as much with that dismissive edge in her voice. I chose her because she wasn’t supposed to need it—because I wasn’t supposed to need it. But hearing it from her lips was like a slap, as if love, her love, was something I’d never be worthy of. Something she gave away to a bastard like Adrian, even for a moment. I’d do anything to touch it, to taste it. I bet her love feels like standing in an endless ray of sunshine, warm enough to burn away the cold of any winter.
