“And you…” I point to the blond girl who has my world under the sharp heel of her black shoe. “You—you keep playing mind games with me, acting like you give a fuck, when really you’ve been planning to leave me this entire time! You know I won’t go to Seattle, yet you’re planning to run off—without telling me!” Her eyes glassy, she pleads with me. “That’s why I hadn’t told you yet, Hardin, because—” “Stop fucking talking,” I say, and her hand moves to her chest, like my words are causing her pain. Maybe they are. Maybe I want them to, so she can feel what I feel.
Yes this is going well
