Aria was young. A fourth-year undergraduate with a fetish for bad boys. She didn’t need Prince Charming, she didn’t need romantic. This courthouse and the spontaneity of it was enough for her, but the notion that he wanted to give her more, that he wanted to try to give her a standard that he thought she wanted was enough to make her heart swell. She didn’t want to change him. She didn’t want to grow him up. She didn’t want a man in tailored suits and a briefcase in hand. She wanted the shooter. She wanted the man that would pull triggers behind her, that was so tatted up that he had to turn
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