“You don’t what?” “I don’t hate you.” “Then why won’t you look at me?” Because I was too busy staring at a spot on the wall as if it held the answers to why I kept fucking up my life. The more I became invested in Braxton, the deeper my hole grew. “Because you’re Houston’s now. That means I shouldn’t want the things I do when I look at you.” She placed her hands on my chest, and I let her push my back against the door. “I can be yours too.”
