doorstep out of nowhere, insisted you continue pretending to date me, whined about my dad’s cancer, got in a massive argument about logistics, made you watch reality TV, and then fell asleep.” “You also threw a blueberry at me.” “You should dump me.” “I tried that already. It didn’t take.” “Seriously. If you want out, I’ll be reasonable this time.” Oliver held my gaze for a long moment. “I don’t want out.” Relief bubbled through me like indigestion. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” “I thought we’d established that fairly clearly. I’m stuffy, pompous, boring, and desperate. Nobody else will
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