wouldn’t be. “I’m full of thorns,” I say softly. “But there are things about me that I hope are worth it.” After a few seconds, I feel her hand in my hair. “I hate Romeo,” she says, stroking my scalp. “But I’m starting to understand him. Fuck you for that, Clay.” I half smile, because I know she’s bitter, because she’s cracking, and I want that. I want what Trace promised. That the switch would flip, and she’d be mine. I peel up her sleeve and gaze at the octopus on the inside of her wrist. “This is mine.” I smooth my thumb over the ink. “Forever mine. My piece of you.” And then in a murmur,
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