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We remain close together, and I hand down words like I’m reciting my wedding vows as opposed to telling her how to replace a drive shaft.
Goldie asks, bottom lip in a pout, head cocked. Her long dark hair is down, and I notice how Atticus pushes it back, so the ends don’t drag through her glass of water. He tucks it behind her ear and places a very soft kiss on her neck before picking up the menu and devoting his focus to it.
But I felt that twinge of pain and pleasure when I first saw her. She was blowing a bubble with her gum, typing on the computer, and listening to something in her EarPods. And I just felt the unbelievable and all-consuming, crushing weight of love. Right then. I knew whatever complexities she had; I’d want them. Whatever troubles she had, I’d try to solve them. Whatever she needed from me, I’d give her. I felt it. The way you can open your palms under a rainy sky and feel the chill of the sky’s tears, the love for her was there, inside me, from day one.
He wiggles his eyebrows, and I feel it in my belly. “I’ve been hanging out with this beautiful woman…” he leans close to me, bringing his hand up to shield our mouths like he’s telling a secret. “She’s a bad influence.”
with the back of my curled knuckle grazing the seam of his sac. “Okay, okay, I’ll be good.” I nod. “Good boy.” He shivers a little. “Fuck. I liked that name.” I repeat it. “Good boy?” He nods. “I’d fucking love to be your good boy.”