Beautiful. The more I look at her, the more I realize how doomed I am. I’ve never had any luck—but she’s the rainbow I’ll fucking chase to win something more important than my own life. I want to kiss her. I want to know what the lip gloss feels like on her lips, to taste it, to make sure no one else in the world gets to know the feeling. Shit. Why is it getting worse? The need for her. Mom’s right. It’s wrong, but nothing has ever felt more right than when I’m around her.
