“Non,” she clips. “I won’t entertain this, you, another second. You’re a boy, and I’m—” “Call me a boy one. More. Fucking. Time,” I grit out in warning as irritation attempts to take the reins, but it’s my heart that grips it before firmly pressing it back under. “We both know I’m more of a man than any other fucking sorry excuse you’ve dragged into this house the last few years. And I only say a few because that’s how long I’ve been paying attention. Since the first time I truly saw you for who you really are, not what you hide behind or your cruelty and attention-seeking tantrums.”
