Chapter 211 Six: Sloan

• If anyone walked in on us right now they'd see how tight he's holding me, how close our bodies are pressed together. No one ever talks to me like he does, but I like that he's not so careful. Everyone is so polite and well-mannered in front of me. I'd take Ford cursing up a storm over programmed robots any day of the week.
• When he opens his eyes again, his lids are heavy and his lips part just a little. "You're seventeen, Sloan. You can't say shit like that to me."
• "I'm eighteen tomorrow," I remind him.