Move the Sun

I love you, Sport. You’re it for me. You fill up a space in me I didn’t even know was empty.

But I need you to keep in touch. I’m not used to giving this much of a shit about somebody, and it turns out I got a short drive to crazy. So check your phone, okay?

That wasn’t sex talk, Lilli. I’m tellin’ you I love you. Don’t make a fuss. Just sayin’ what I feel.

I love you, Sport. I want to put my ring on you. I want to put my ink on you. I want to make a baby with you.

I love you, Lilli. So much I’m dizzy with it.

Her head felt like elephants were doing the merengue on her cerebellum.

Ah, Christ. Do you know how fucking good you feel on me? So damn tight and soft, holding me in. I love the way you smell, the way you taste. I love the sounds you make. Fuck, baby, I love you.

Lilli . . . Lilli . . . Lilli.” Sweet Jesus, she was going to kill him. She’d just gotten to sleep. Now he was running a finger up and down her spine, saying her name in an extremely life-threatening singsong voice.

He would not lose her. He never thought to have this; he never thought he wanted it. But he had it, this love, this binding with another soul, and he was not giving it up. Fuck no. He would not betray her.

I want to put my ink on you. I want to make a baby with you.