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“I didn’t pick you up,” I point out. “You just sort of attached yourself to me.” “Like a cuddly and adorable koala.” “Or a parasite.”
“Careful what you wish for, Luke Kelly,” he warns, holding his hand out to me palm up across the center console. “You’d be an easy person to fall in love with.”
“So, hey, are you my boyfriend?” I ask, and he chokes a little bit because of my unfortunate timing. “What?” he asks, after successfully clearing his throat of peanut butter. “What’s our thing? Boyfriends, lovers, partners? Sex cowboys?”
“Boyfriend, then. Whichever label means that we’re exclusive, and that nobody can touch you but me, that’s the one I want.”
“Good morning, baby,” I reply, because I’m a fucking sap, and he drooled all over me, and I want to keep him here forever.
“You’re not broken, Max. You’re beautiful and kind; you make me fucking laugh, and it’s not like you’re even trying to do it, but everything you say always ends up being what I needed to hear. I wanted you the moment you walked into the diner that night—I wanted to know you, and touch you, and just be around you. None of that changed when I found out about the party. I know you’re mad at me, and I’m going to do what you asked and leave, but I’m not leaving for good, okay? I’m not walking away.”