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“Fuck. Do you even fucking know?” he ground out, his gaze never leaving mine. “Kn-know what?” “How it feels. To be jealous of your own fucking sister. Do you know how fucked up that is, Charlie?”
“Yeah? You feel jealous? What about me? When she kissed me, I felt guilty for days! Because of you!”
No one had ever kissed me like that before. Like they needed me to breathe. Like they’d die without my mouth on theirs.
Sipping my coffee more slowly, I scrolled through my phone, doing my best to forget about people whose names began with N and who could give me butterflies just from a smile.
