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Luna flops onto her back with a huff. “You’re so boring.” “It’s called being sensible,” Kate retorts. “You should try it some time.” “Like I said. Boring.”
But the first time I slipped on a pair of gloves and got the shit beaten out of me, I remember as clearly as if it had happened yesterday, not five years ago.
In the blink of an eye—or, more accurately, in the time it took a fist to smash into my cheekbone—I fell in love with the sport.
Drop the defenses, querida. I’m not tryna take care of you. Tryna help you take care of yourself.
“Could always sleep in my bed. I’ll protect you.” “Dream on.” “Believe me, querida, I will.”
She’s…. light. She’s literal sunshine. And it makes a burst of anger shoot through me because I know that for so long, she was with someone who did nothing but dim her.
And when he murmurs, “I just gotta hold you for a sec,” in a quiet, calm, honest voice, that feels pretty freaking perilous too.
“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday, by the way.” “You didn’t.” It’s my turn to deadpan him. “My ex-boyfriend beat the crap out of you for talking to me.” “And the night ended with a pretty girl in my bed, fawning over me,” Nick retorts smoothly. “I’d call that a win.”
“A little teasing is good for him. Keeps his ego in check. Stops his big head from getting stuck in doorways.”
“Sometimes, I find it hard to look at you,” he murmurs, “because you’re so fucking beautiful I can’t think.”
“Sabia que seria assim.”
“Gosto mais de você do que desejo.” “I don’t know what that means.” Nick laughs. “Me neither.”
“I need to leave because you are everywhere, all the time, and I can’t fucking think straight. I can’t fucking breathe, Amelia. I can’t stop wanting you and I hate it because you don’t want me.”
