“What’s wrong with you?” Johnny’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” “You had an ice pack on your leg at school earlier,” I stated, gesturing with my hand to where he was still digging his fist into his thigh. “Are you hurt?” His gaze followed mine to his thigh and he quickly yanked his hand away. “Jesus,” he grunted, looking appalled. “I didn’t realize I was doing that.” “You’ve been touching yourself since we got in the car,” I announced. “Jesus Christ!” Johnny hissed, gaping at me in horror. I immediately regretted my choice of words and began to backpedal. “I mean, not
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