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If you were ever the fat girl, you will always be her inside your own head.
She just seems to have something the Perfectly Nice Girls do not, and tomorrow I find out if it was all in my head.
I’m pretty sure there’s nothing hotter than a man standing in lashing rain, all lean muscle and determination, trying to make sure shit’s kept dry.
“Fine, I’ll eat,” I tell him. “But don’t expect miracles. I’ll still be cranky.” He’s still smiling. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
“Because I refuse to obsess over a girl who’s never going to stick around.”
“What word would you use for a woman who’s awful and trying to destroy everything you care about, but who you also are more than a little obsessed with?” “Nemesis or future wife,” he says. “It could go either way.”
“I just want you to stop giving away something we both know ought to be mine.”
It really is just unbelievably simple. You like him and you wanted to be secure in the knowledge that he likes you while you continue to fend him off.”
I don’t want to sleep with her. I want to punish her, devour her, make her beg, tear her apart, and put her back together. There wouldn’t be a minute of sleeping.
“Try me, Emmy. Regain every pound. Because there’s a long list of things about you I adore, and your weight has never, ever been on there. I was crazy about you before I’d ever even seen your face.”
This is what you want, and if you take anything from your time here, I want it to be that one person in Elliott Springs loved you enough to put you first.”
He laughs. I’ve found the one man alive who will laugh when I threaten to kill him. How have I gotten so lucky?
“So you decided to propose,” I say hoarsely, “by listing my flaws and not actually asking a question?”
