‘I love every bad thing about you,’ he said. ‘Everything you don’t. All your bruises.’ I wanted him to mean it. More than that, I wanted it to be true. There was nothing I could say that wasn’t terrifying, so I kissed him instead, and that was enough to hit reset and wipe the look off his face, and I was her again, and again, and again, and again, everything he wanted for as long as he wanted her.
