We disconnect slowly, like we’re glued together. “Don’t be with Kathleen.” I look up at his face, whispering, “She doesn’t kill you.” That Bukowski quote pops into my head: “Find what you love and let it kill you.” I think I just did. “I won’t. Don’t be with a stupid, shiny guy with boiled balls. You were born for greatness, Princess.” “I won’t.” I smile. He lifts my chin with his finger so our eyes lock and says, “Ask me again.”
