K.L. Walther

“Nice try, baby.”

“Oranges,” I murmured.

“My shampoo,” Wit murmured back.

“I love oranges.”

“So you love me.”

“I don’t want to be ‘pretty’ to you,” I tried again. “It means nothing. It’s sanitized and superficial.” I reached for one of his hands and squeezed it tight. “You pay me the most wonderful compliments. You say such interesting things no one has ever said before, like how affectionate I am, and smart and clever…and I can’t even tell you how good that makes me feel.”