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“Now,” I sneered, glaring down at their faces. “Who wants to call my girlfriend a whore to my face?”
“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.”
“Do you mind?” I asked then. He smirked. “No, baby, I don’t mind.”

