“But I’m also not going to say I’ll forget.”
But he was lying. For him, it had become unsustainable in the opposite direction. He was falling. Not in love, exactly—something messier. Something that smelled like printer toner and her shampoo and the specific panic of knowing you have three weeks left to exist in someone’s gravity. intern summer of lust
She laughed, low and dangerous. “That’s not a career path, Leo.” “But I’m also not going to say I’ll forget