Alarmed, I realized what my visceral reaction implied: jealousy. Over a guy I barely knew, with whom I’d exchanged more saliva than sentences.

Landon Loucas Maxfield was asleep on his sofa. With me.

Over the past three years, we'd become each other's habit. And though he'd broken his habit of me when he walked away, I'd not broken my habit of him.

I don't know why it's so hard for me to say those three words. Most guys throw it around like breath, like bait.

I’ve come to ask how you do it. How you feel what I know you’re feeling and then walk away like that.

I thought I dreamed you." The words whisper from my parched throat. His head tilts to one side, his mouth shifting to something less sarcastic, more amused. "That may be the most enchanting thing I've ever been told after spending the night with a girl.

Not stupid. Overly trusting, maybe, but that reflects on his lack of trustworthiness, not on your intelligence.