“And when you get tired of me?” I’m a wet, trembling mess. “When you can’t be around anymore? When you meet someone else?” “I won’t,” he says, and I hate how sure, how resigned he sounds. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that. You—” “There hasn’t been anyone else.” His jaw tenses and works. “Since the first moment I saw you. Since the first moment I talked to you and made an ass of myself, there hasn’t been anyone else.”
