“Fine,” I huff, swinging open the freezer door. “Pistachio it is.” I snatch up a pint and toss it into the basket, letting the door whisper shut. “So, why Pistachio?” Caleb says, leading the way towards the cash register. “Because Mars is a health nut and pistachios are supposed to be, like, really healthy, right?” “I guess,” Caleb says with a shrug. “Plus Pistachio just seems to fit his whole vibe,” I add. “His vibe?” “Yeah, you know his whole moody, broody, silently thoughtful thing. Like he never says a word, right? But he’s always there, and he’s always paying attention. He sees
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