“You like me?” I repeat again. I need to hear him say the words. “You do not think I am too young?” “I think you’re just too keffing innocent, that’s all. I don’t want to be the one that spoils that.” “You spoil nothing,” I tell him, and let my fingers wander over his lips. They are surprisingly soft for all of the frowns he tends to do over a day. “Let me be in control of my innocence.”
