“My phone is on my bed, whispering in my ear like a bottle of scotch to a recovering alcoholic, while the rain continues cackling at me through my window.”
“Yeah, tell me I’m a bottle of single malt scotch, she thought. That’s the way to my heart.”
“It's my turn to see you through,' she whispers, coming back to me and wrapping me in her blanket as I lose my shit all over again. She holds me until I recover my Y chromosome.”
“You are meant for me, and I for you," Brandon whispered in my ear, and pressed his lips to my neck, sending more dreams of our future through me.”
“There will come a time when it isn't 'They're spying on me through my phone' anymore. Eventually, it will be 'My phone is spying on me'.”
“If I meet you at your third floor window tonight, will you let me in?” he whispers softly against my ear, hardly a murmur.”