What had he been thinking? He hadn’t, obviously. He hadn’t been thinking at all. The endearment had escaped his lips thoughtlessly. He’d never been “in love,” and though no one else made him feel like this slip of a girl, that didn’t mean he loved her. He hardly knew her, despite their weeks of acquaintance. Besides, love wasn’t part of his plan. Love was dangerous. It made one too vulnerable, too open to the pain of loss and betrayal.
