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Buy a man flowers, at least. Or hell, lead off with a good joke. But it is what it is, I suppose.
Because whoever is torturing this poor girl is certainly watching us right now and they can eat shit. “Lead the way, babe.”
Which is even more reason to get the hell out of here before I catch feelings. Because Conor Edwards is absolutely the guy you fall for before you learn that girls like me don’t get guys like him.
I never stood a chance against Conor Edwards.
“Babe, you’ve got the kind of body that boys build in their heads under the sheets after dark.”
“I mean it.” His voice thickens. “I’ve been sitting here having filthy thoughts about you all night. Don’t mistake my manners for indifference.”
“You’re ridiculously attractive, Taylor.” This time when he speaks, I don’t doubt his sincerity, if perhaps his sanity. I suppose someone like him doesn’t get around so much by being picky. “Don’t spend any more time believing otherwise.”
I truly believe that all body types are beautiful. It’s only when I look in the mirror that I forget.
I remember the way she’d lamented about her curves, and I honestly don’t get it. Taylor’s body is a thousand times more appealing to me than most. Women are supposed to be soft and curvy and squeezable. I’m not sure when they were brainwashed into thinking otherwise.
“I didn’t come out tonight because of who’s watching. I came because I was sitting at home thinking about you and I couldn’t stand it another minute.”
“Then why do something so stupid and screw it all up by trying to kiss me?” “Because I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss you and I was afraid we might never find out.”
Taylor Marsh has no idea how cool she is, and that’s a fucking shame.
Everything else filters into the darkness until it’s just Taylor, walking toward me in a tiny white dress glowing under the UV lights. Her hair curled, makeup done. That sexy beauty mark above her mouth that makes her look like a modern Marilyn Monroe. That’s my girlfriend.
And Taylor. I’ve known her less than a month, yet I count her among the short list of people I trust. She makes me want to be a better person. With her, I feel like I can finally get something right, like maybe I can actually have a real relationship based on friendship rather than lust.
“Society tells boys to divide and conquer, and tells girls to save ourselves for some younger future version of our father. Just doing some quick math in my head and…yep, that comes out to a bunch of hypocritical bullshit. Your self-worth is not tied up in your vagina or how many girls came before you.”
Nothing shapes us like our friends. Family, definitely. Families fuck us up by an order of magnitude. But friends, we collect them like bricks and nails and drywall. They’re pieces in the blueprint, but that blueprint is always under renovation. We’re all deciding who we were always meant to be, choosing, mutating, growing into ourselves. Friends are the qualities we want to absorb. What we want to be.
“Damn it, T, I’m trying to say I’m in love with you.”
In his arms, I feel steady again, finally upright after being thrown askew. Because when we aren’t together, the world feels misaligned. Conor gives me balance, sets the ground flat again.
“I mean it—I’m stupidly in love with you. I should have said it sooner. I’d blame repeated head trauma, but I was just an idiot. I’m sorry.” “I’m still mad at you,” I tell him honestly, though with a little less ferocity. “I know.” He smiles. A bit sad. Still sweet. “I’m prepared to do some pretty intense groveling.”
Every day, I’m falling more in love with her.
She flashes this self-impressed grin at me, and I can’t help myself. I’m stupid for this girl.
“You’re a pain in my ass.” “Love you, too.”
