Somewhere in the darkest pits of my mind, I wonder what the fuck Royce was talking about the night he told me that Taylor was in love with me. And mistakenly, that I was in love with him, too. We didn’t look like that. No, more than half the time, we wanted to kill each other. “Those are cute.” Speak of the devil. Taylor somehow crept up on me, appearing at my side with a smirk on his lips, his moto jacket tied at the waist with a shirt depicting Barbie dressed as a flag girl covering his torso. Still with the weird fucking shirts. Scowling at him, I try to ignore studying the tattoos that
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