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I’m making it obvious that I'm nervous, but how can I not be when my mother's cousin's husband's niece is staring at me?
WHAT THE FUCK DOES FTHAT MEAN
For now, I appreciate the beauty of Port Valen while I can.
The sharp pinpricks release all kinds of endorphins into my system, and I decide here, and now, that I’m addicted to tattoos.
“Nope. I could get pregnant just looking at you. Go away.”
Girl that aint somthing you say out loud
God, he’s mean. Why do I like it?
“Nah,” he says. “People don’t actually care about fixing you. They just want to shape your broken pieces until they fit their standards. Smooth ’em out, make ’em less sharp, so they don’t cut so deep when they collect ’em. But you ain’t any less broken.”
A few years ago, I built this research center from the ground up—Vitale Oceanic Research for Selachians. It’s my life’s work and something I’ve been privileged to do since I got the funding for it from the government.
He steps on the boat and holds his hand out for mine, a hint of fire in his stare. I take it. I’ve never been good at making the right decision.
