“Good night, Lizzy Bennet!” I pull the pillow off my face. “How does that even fit?” I call after her. “Come on, it’s obvious!” she returns. I hear her shoes scrape against the entryway tile as she pulls them on. “He’s a rich guy trying to woo you; you’re a witty, well-read commoner who is trying to convince yourself you want nothing to do with him. You’re one saving-your-little-sister-from-a-ruined-reputation situation away from falling madly in love.” “I don’t have a little sister,” I yell, staring up at my ceiling. “No, but you have me!” I hear her stand and grab her purse off the barstool
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