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Those last two words send my mind to dangerous shores. To impossible futures. They remind me cruelly and beautifully that making the most of these four days isn’t only about sex.
He rolls his eyes. “If I bring my big eggplant to New York, I bet you’d call it the Big Apple for me.”
“Someday, when I become a famous novelist, I’ll be sure to write a hero named Jude. And give him a big cock.”
Less than twenty-four hours later, and I’m already falling in love with him all over again.
