Broken

I want her. But more than that, I want her to want me.

No matter where I look, my walls are crumbling, and this damned girl keeps presenting me with the most dangerous element of all. Hope.

Olivia hasn’t just taught me how to love. She’s done something much bigger. She’s taught me how to live. And I don’t want to do it without her.

She makes me forget to breathe. She makes me forget everything.

I’m not proud of myself, Olivia. Not even a little bit. Do I wish I’d never let you go? Obviously. Do I wish I’d come to my senses sooner? Of course. And maybe if it had taken me only a day or two to clear my head, then yeah, I would have called. But when you fuck up as badly as I fucked up, for that long, you don’t call. You don’t text. You don’t email. You go to your girl and beg.

You’re not fine, Paul,” he replies. “You can barely walk. You don’t leave this house unless forced to. All you do is read and mope—” “Brood. I prefer brood. More manly than mope!

You made me whole. You took a wretched, broken soul and showed him how to take his life back.

You’re one messed-up piece of work.” “Yeah, but you’re starting to worry that you might like me,” I say confidently. “Considering I also give you a boner, shit’s gonna get reaaaaal complicated here in the next few months.

I have a serious lady boner for the guy I’m supposed to work for.

If I thought Fridays were awesome when I was a full-time student, they’re downright euphoric now that I’m part of the regular workforce.

The closed door doesn’t bother me. But the sound of soft sobbing nearly kills me.

This is a part of post-college life that nobody ever warns you about. Your social life is no longer dropped into your lap by virtue of shared classes and extracurricular activities. Relationships, whether with friends, family, or romantic partners—from here on out, they’re going to take a lot more work. No more built-in friends at the sorority, or hollering down the stairs when I need my mom. It’s certainly not going to be as easy to meet guys now that I’m done with school. It’s not like I can just chat up the cute guy in econ class anymore.

He does tend to have that effect on people. They come in expecting to feel sympathetic but walk away wanting to strangle him.

I haven’t even seen the guy in full light yet and I’m about fifteen seconds away from asking if his offspring would like to take up residence in my uterus.

Just what I need. A bubblegum explosion in my life.

I don't want you to go. Is that what you want to hear? You want to hear that I want you? That I need you? Because I do, Olivia. I need you.

Paul’s soft laugh is the best sound I’ve heard in weeks.