“Tell me what constitutes a date then,” I challenge, sounding like a dickhead. Because I am a dickhead. “Well, first, if you were asking me on a date, you’d offer to come pick me up.” Uh huh. “And when you’d pick me up, you’d take me to dinner or a movie, or some sort of form of entertainment that’ll keep us occupied for a few hours,” she continues. Sounds fucking boring as shit. “Keep going.” “And then you’d take me back home and—” “Kiss you at the front door, convince you to go inside and end up in your bedroom and fuck you until you were screaming my name?” I suggest helpfully. Her cheeks
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