“Yes, Carter, endgame. What’s your plan?” “I want to …” I scratch my head. I want to see her again. I want to take her to that Disney movie. I want to kiss her some more, maybe snuggle on my couch while we watch TV in front of the fireplace and I play with her hair, ’cause it’s soft and it smells nice. “I want Olivia.” Plain and simple. “You want every girl.” “It’s not the same, Cara. Not with her.” It’s never really been about wanting so much as it’s been about satisfying an urge, slapping a temporary bandage over a void. Because the truth is, though I promised my mom I wouldn’t let a love
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