People need space; families need air; love needs light. Like Mrs. Anastagio always said, ―You need enough rooms to love someone properly.
For the first time in his life he understood why the Bible called sex "knowing". Everything was different. Now he Dante. He'd known Dante. And wonder of wonders, Dante had known him right back.
[...]Are both of you...?" "Manscaped?" Dante smiled. "I'm fucking Italian; I been mowing my lawn since I was thirteen.
It was the list of activities thing. Like the menu with price, only I'm not the restaurant; I'm the meal.
I want you to move in with me, man." "Nah. I appreciate it, but I need to get a place of my own. I'm a grownup.
If your heart is broken, do you have a phantom heart?
