"I love you," he said simply. He didn't say it because he felt obligated to or because it was what she wanted to hear. He said it because he meant it. It felt weird, saying that phrase aloud like that. He hadn't said it in a very long time. "I don't want her. Are you listening? She's my only contact, yes, but that doesn't mean things will change between her and me or between you and me for that matter." He paused. "And I love that you're short and artsy and generally unkempt. I even love that you're pushy and loud and very opinionated. And who cares about long legs and huge boobs? Because I don't. But you shouldn't worry about me. I know how to take care of myself. I'm not going to dive head-first into trouble." When her eyes met his, he looked at her concerned.