“They’re just books.” “Oh no,” I correct him with a hand on his chest, my other panned toward the stacks of books. “These are not just books. These are feels. These are swoons. These are screams. These are strength. These are oh my fucking god, did he just do that? These are holy shit, I want that done to me. These are I’ll never be the same after reading that, and this now lives rent-free in my head for eternity.” “Shit. I’m so out of my league here. You pick.”
