“There’s a word for girls like you.”

“Self-destructive.”

“No, I was going to say cautious,” he squeezed her hand a little tighter, he hadn’t expected her to say something like that, “Why self-destructive?”

She sighed, heavily, squeezing his hand back a little tighter, “because everything that holds the possibility to be good for me, I always end up ruining and being bitter with myself about.”

“Well, I’m still here.”

“For now.”

“For always,” and she hoped like hell he was telling the truth.

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