He lets out a heavy exhale. “Listen, I’ve been told most of my life that there’s a lot of me to go around. You don’t need to be nice about it.” “Well, if you’re exhausting, so am I,” I say. “High-maintenance. Argumentative. Abrasive. According to my ex, boring.” I scoff. “First off, never call yourself that,” he says sternly with a pointed finger. “And second, what I’m hearing are other words. Classy. Opinionated. And intimidating to people who can’t handle strong women. Which I really like about you.”
