Tahereh Mafi

It’s always ‘Shut up, Kenji.’ ‘Go to sleep, Kenji.’ ‘No one wants to see you naked, Kenji.’ When I know for a fact that there are thousands of people who would love to see me naked

“Please.”

He says “Please don’t shoot me for this.”

And he kisses me.

Kenji grins. “Okay then. Let’s go get our girl back.”

“My girl,” I correct him. “She’s my girl.”

Kenji snorts as we head in the direction of the compounds. “Right. Minus the part where she’s not actually your girl. Not anymore.”

He looks at me with so much emotion I nearly crack in half.

I’m shocked by my own lack of self-control, but I’m not sure I know how to contain these feelings. Adam makes me hungry for things I never knew I could have.

I’m going to show you exactly what choice I’ve made. I’m going to memorize every inch of your body with my lips.”

Because my friendship,” he whispers, “comes with so many more benefits than Kenji could ever offer.”

“Have you ever heard of Blue Streak?”
I blink at him. “That’s the name of a movie?”
“Romeo Must Die? Bad Boys? Rush Hour? Rush Hour 2? Rush Hour 3? Actually, Rush Hour 3 wasn’t that great. Tangled?”

“I love you, Ella,” I whisper. “I will love you for the rest of my life. My heart is yours. Please don’t ever give it back to me.”

And then, even though I know it’s going to piss him off, I say to Nazeera:
“Warner and J were engaged.”