More Than Forever (More Than, #4)

by Jay McLean

Waiting for someone to die has to be the world's cruellest joke.

"I'm sorry about what I said yesterday, but I don't like the thought of sharing you either. No more games. You're my girl now, Luce." And I swoon. Just a little.

And then we hug, jumping up and down as we do. It lasts a few seconds before we both realize that we're twenty-one-year-old dudes and not nine-year-old One-Directioners. He clears his throat and does something that looks like flexing his muscles. I belch. Because right now I think it's important that we both remind ourselves that we're manly assholes.