“Trevor, don’t say that.” I tell him, our heads still together, eyes still shut.
“It’s true,” he persists sincerely, “and I know it’ll only further complicate things but I’m tired. I’m tired of holding it back, of pretending that I don’t itch to see you everyday, to hold your hand, to touch and kiss you. I wanna hear your voice at the end of the day, telling me about your employees and what you had for lunch, I wanna go to bed with you next to me, I just want you . . . So bad.”
“We still have so much to do,” I whisper, knowing that I wanted all of those things too.
“I know, but I want to work on them. I don’t want to be friends, Ocean, gou know that’s impossible.”
“But you agreed to it.”
“Because it would mean that I would be closer to you.” He pulls away from me, looking into my eyes
