“I like you, Monty. I like you a lot.” His words are what some would consider juvenile. The force behind them, though—that’s what makes them so powerful. My knuckles begin to turn white as I grasp the phone even tighter. “I like you a lot too, Robbie,” I tell him. “No, you don’t get it. I can’t stop thinking about you, or your ass, your tits…your kissable-as-fuck mouth.” I chuckle at how far off this conversation just went, in typical Robbie fashion. “Or your off-the-wall personality and stupid sexy grandma outfits, which is kind of embarrassing if you think about it.” “They aren’t that bad.”
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