Pulling up to a red light, he looks over at me and chuckles, shaking his head as he focuses back on the road. “What?” I ask curiously. “You play dirty.” My grin widens, but I admit nothing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Humming amusedly, he puts his foot on the gas as the light turns green. “Every game I’ve seen you come to, you’re in jeans or sweatpants, with your hair tied back like you couldn’t be bothered. But tonight, you show up looking like you’re ready for a night on the town.” To be honest, the outfit was Mali’s idea, and a brilliant one at that. It may have been a little
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