“I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for contributing to your idea that you aren’t good enough.” Devin cupped her jaw, his thumb caressing the crest of her cheek. “Because while it’s true that you’re one hundred percent a stone-cold weirdo, I am so fucking into it.” “What?” Alex said, half laugh, half croak. “You’re scary”—he kissed her brow—“and mean”—the underside of her chin—“and obsessive”—the tip of her nose. “And I cannot get enough of you.” “You’re so bad at this,” she said fondly.
