It’s always been apparent that Warner takes pride in his appearance; his outfits are impeccable; his clothes fit him like they were cut for his body. But now I finally understand why he took such care with my wardrobe. He wasn’t trying to patronize me. He was enjoying himself.
for so many years i lived in constant terror of myself. doubt had married my fear and moved into my mind, where it built castles and ruled kingdoms and reigned over me, bowing my will to its whispers until i was little more than an acquiescing peon, too terrified to disobey, too terrified to disagree. i had been shackled, a prisoner in my own mind.
but finally, finally, i have learned to break free.
I’ve finally gotten to a point in my life where I’m not afraid to speak. Where my shadow no longer haunts me. And I don’t want to lose that freedom- not again. I can’t go backward. I’d rather be shot dead screaming for justice than die alone in a prison of my own making.
“So that’s it?” Kenji says. “You just like him for his personality, huh?”
“All of this,” Kenji says, waving a hand in the air, “has nothing to do with him being all sexy and shit and him being able to touch you all the time?”
“You think Warner is sexy?”
I close my eyes, dragging a hand down my face; my fingers linger against my lips. I could feel her. I could really feel her. Even thinking about it now makes my heart race. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I keep having such intense dreams about her. I won’t be able to function at all.
“So the two of you”—Ian tries to find his voice—“I mean, together—you two could basically—” “Take over the world?” Warner is looking at the wall now. “I was going to say you could kick some serious ass, but yeah, that, too, I guess.” Ian shakes his head.