“You just what, Shannon?” he coaxed. “I thought you liked me,” I strangled out. “Jesus Christ,” Johnny groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “Of course, I like you.” He tugged on his hair and sighed. “I think it’s pretty fucking clear that I’m mad about you.” Exhaling a pained groan, he added, “But I’ll be eighteen in May, Shannon.” “I’m sixteen,” I whispered. “I know, Shannon, fuck I know,” he groaned, voice torn. “But I’m trying to do the right thing here.” My heart fluttered uncertainly. I didn’t know what to think or how to feel. He was rejecting me and telling me he liked me at the
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