Gripping the marble on either side of her, I rest my forehead against hers, staring into those bottomless blue eyes, the memories that live in them, all the laughter, the love, the hope. She’s my life, after all. “I know you’re scared,” I tell her gently. “I’m not scared. I’d just rather throw myself off a cliff than inject a twenty-five-inch needle into my stomach.” “It’s, like, an inch.” “You would know, shrimp dick.” Laughter bubbles in my chest, and Cara’s shoulders sag before she wraps her arms around me. “I’m sorry. You don’t have a shrimp dick.” She lays her cheek on my chest, and when
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