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200 pages, Paperback
First published February 11, 2019
“You have to tell me what you want,” he whispered gruffly. “If you don’t want me, tell me. But you have to know, you must know, I only want to make you happy.”
*I received an early version of this book to voluntarily read.*
I was a solution, he was a solute, and total saturation was on my mind.
This wasn’t a crush, this was requited desire and reciprocated like. Kissing, unscripted touching, gazing, whispers. . . I was near dizzy at the thought. But in this specific case, that also totaled certain disaster.
“You have to tell me what you want,” he whispered gruffly. “If you don’t want me, tell me. But you have to know, you must know, I only want to make you happy.”
There's no escape from destiny.
‘My calm capitulation seemed to increase his irritation. “No drinking. No drugs. No parties. No sneaking out. No one comes over until your parents get home in two weeks, or Dr. Steward arrives, whichever comes first. And no leaving the house without me. Anywhere you go, I go.”
I stared at him evenly, because—other than having him escort me out of the house—he was basically reading my Christmas list. Total seclusion and quiet for the next week? Where did I sign up?’
‘I didn’t like all the unknowns.
My life had been supremely tidy up to now, by design. And Abram was the definition of messy—from the way he dressed to how infrequently he shaved to eating cold pizza, sleeping at random hours, approaching his responsibilities with a laissez-faire nonchalance, waiting until the last minute to get his mother a birthday gift, and did the man even have a job?—and liking him had the potential to be incredibly messy.
And yet, I did.
I liked him.’
‘He grinned, his features softened by the glow of nearby streetlamps and the red light of the traffic signal, his four - dimensional attractiveness growing to ten dimensions, where the tenth were those pesky infinite possibilities and I was suffocating in the tenderness of his big, gorgeous, ten - dimensional brown eyes.
Oh my heart.’
‘This was also the moment. Lying here with Abram was the memory I would keep, the one I would retrieve on rainy days, the one that would inspire wistful daydreams. And as beautiful as he’d been in the pool, as utterly perfect of an exterior he possessed, I wouldn’t be thinking of his body when I missed him, I would be thinking of his heart.’
"So . . . it has come to this.”