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Brandon is one of those guys who can get by on looks alone. Not pretty, more … Hollywood. Symmetrical face. Blond hair that does that perfect wave thing. The most unusual thing about his face is his vampire teeth.
He looks like he wants to argue, so I bat my lashes at him like the innocent fucker I am. And when Brandon laughs, I can’t help grinning.
I’ll never be one of the greats. I’m no Shane Miller.
“No relationship bullshit.” “I love you, Robbie, but the day I want a relationship with you is the day no one else on the earth exists.”
When I told Brandon I love him, I think … I think I might have meant it.
“But I am. I can do relationships, and I can be committed. I’d be the best fucking boyfriend in history, because if I was into someone enough that I wanted that with them, they’d be my whole world.”
“B-boyfriend? Not brofriend?” “No. We can stop kidding ourselves that this is nothing, because I think it might be everything.”
“I love you. I’m crazy in love with you, Brando. And when I say crazy”—I indicate the chaos around us—“I mean it. I would do literally anything to see you smile.”
