One-half of Deux Lectrices, writing about the things I read.
“What are you doing?” Finley demanded, her tone a reflection of what his own had been—only slightly more panicked. She wasn’t that breakable, but Griffin was. “You shouldn’t be out here.”
[earlier]
“Why don’t you come out here and see how beautiful New York City is at night?”
What his Love Interest and Free Spirit demanded.