“You’re not pretty.” The words are out before I’ve thought them through. Before I’ve considered how they’ll sound. “Way to kick a girl when she’s down, Ethan.” Georgie scoffs. I can’t leave things like that, so I continue. “You’re more than pretty. Like sunshine. It hurts to look at you.” I’m not sure if she grasps what I’m really saying. That it hurts me to look at her. That she makes me want things I shouldn’t—desires that jeopardize what I’ve worked hard to achieve.
