“I don’t know you?” It sounds like a question, but I know he’s not waiting for an answer. “You’re gonna look at me with those beautiful eyes and tell me I don’t know that you’re the strongest fucking person I’ve ever met, and that I admire you more than I’ve ever admired anyone? You’re gonna tell me I don’t know that you love carrot cake beyond reason, that you change into your pajamas as soon as you get home because you can’t stand sitting on the couch with your outside clothes on, that you love cooking because it brings you peace, that math gives you a purpose, and that your lips aren’t the
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