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she doesn’t know it yet, but she became mine the moment she spilled that coffee.
What she—Amanda—has reduced me to. A boy in the playground, so enamored that he steals things that don’t belong to him. Only that isn’t really true, though, is it? I can’t steal something that’s already mine.
“Sure, a chuisle,”
She spits in my face, and while I wipe it off, my brain empties of every single thought except one: I think I fucking love this woman.
“You belong to me as surely as the heart that beats in this chest belongs to me.”
