His eyes bleed with this distraught strength, an oxymoron that I can understand. I’ve had that same look in context of Lily. “How much did it hurt?” I ask. “Did what hurt?” “Watching her with other guys.” He flinches back like air escapes him. After a short pause, he says, “It felt like someone was drowning me in fucking salt water and lighting me on fire.” I almost give him a weak smile. “Same.” I steady my breaths. “I need some time.” To get used to them. Together. Christ. It’s fucking weird. “But I’m not going to hit you again. So revel in that.”
