“That’s really nice,” I tell him with my hands. “Trust me, I’m not nice,” he signs in response. I chew on my lower lip while I think of how to respond. “I don’t think I want nice,” I sign slowly. “I read dark romance because I always fall for the villains. I want someone whose intentions are good, but instead of buying me flowers, he cuts off my ex’s hands. Nice guys are just that—they’re nice. But I want someone who will be all-consumed by me no matter what.” Starboy hangs his head and rubs the back of his neck, and the gesture reminds me so much of Orion … I squeeze my eyes closed. Why the
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