“Good luck, Leo,” she whispered.
“This isn’t sustainable,” she said one night, lying on a picnic blanket in Bryant Park, her head on his chest. Fireflies blinked like tiny, ambivalent gods. intern summer of lust
“So,” she said.
He kissed her. Right there, in front of Bryce and the HR intern and a director who definitely saw. He kissed her like August was a life sentence, not a release. “Good luck, Leo,” she whispered
He swallowed. “You.”