the love hypothesis romans sentimentaux étrangers ali hazelwood

There is nothing I can do, so I’ll just . . . They were half-asleep while she was gone, but now she’s here and my body thinks it’s a fucking teenager and I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing like her and these feelings, they are fucking intolerable. She’s everything I ever wanted and I want to inject her into my veins and also to never see her again. I want to hold her hand, and I want to lock her in my bedroom.

I want to go back in time and punch her stupid husband on the day I met him and then travel back to the future and punch him again. I want to push her against a wall, and I want her to push back. Sometimes I forget why I came into the room. I want to tell her that she’s luminous, she’s so bright in my mind, sometimes I can’t focus. She trusts me, and all I think about is taking her to my office, stripping her, doing unspeakable things to her. It’s like hot water down my fucking spine. I tell her stuff I know she’ll agree to, just to hear her hum back at me. I go to sleep thinking about it, and then I wake up, go to work, and she is there, and it’s impossible. It’s wrong, really wrong, but I know the shape of her. The curve of her wrist, when she holds a pen. Her upper lip is a little plumper than the lower. This little freckle on her neck when she pulls up her hair. Buy you a new bike and a case of decent reagent and that sludge you drink. Is there anything I can do for you? I’ll take you grocery shopping and fill your fridge when we’re back home.

It’s been going on for a while, longer than you think, longer than you can imagine, and I should have told you, but I have this impression, this certainty that you’re half a second from running away, that I should give you enough reasons to stay. Then I dream of you, and when I wake up my head’s still there, stuck on something funny, beautiful, filthy, intelligent that’s all about you. Sometimes, often, always, I think about you before falling asleep. I liked you when I didn’t know you, and now that I do know you it’s only gotten worse. I like no one, absolutely no one, but I liked you from the start. An issue, since I remember a little too well. “Pretty fucking tragic twist of fate, but you don’t seem to remember that we first met years ago.

The love hypothesis romans sentimentaux étrangers ali hazelwood