“That’s not…” He clears his throat, looking a little helpless as he drops his gaze to the container of fried rice in his hand. “I’m not the right guy for you.” “Why not?” I set my food down on the coffee table and lean forward. “You know I don’t give a fuck about your leg, right? Or your scars. I’m…I’m kind of crazy about you, Gan.” Fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound.
