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“Yes, and thanks so much for paying,” she said and I watched as her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “I really appreciate it.” Was she serious? Was she really thanking me for that? Christ, this girl was unlike any of the others.
SUREEE. Look i get it the poor thing is traumatized and has the worst case of PTSD (except its actually DTSD (DURING trauma stress disorder) cause the traumas still happening) except she just said a fucking THANK YOU. What on earth is ultra special and extaordinary about that?
“Honestly, Johnny offering to drop me home is probably just another one of his ways of trying to make up for knocking me up on the pitch.” “Excuse me?” Mrs. Kavanagh spluttered, eyes bulging. “It was an accident,” I quickly interjected. “He didn’t mean for it to happen. If anyone’s at fault, then I am. I shouldn’t have gone there. I distracted him. But he took good care of me afterward.” I blew out a breath before adding, “He was very kind.” “And when did this accident happen?” “Back in January,” I explained, my hand automatically moving to cup the back of my head. “The doctors at the hospital
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Sweetheart! IM TWELVE AND EVEN I KNOW HOW SHES PROBABLY INTERPRETING ALL THIS. "KNOCKING ME UP". SWEETHART. DARLING. MY LOVE.
I shifted uncomfortably before saying, “‘Fuck Her Gently’?” Johnny gaped at me. “What?” “Track nine on the CD?” I shrugged. “It was ‘Fuck Her Gently’ by Tenacious D.” “Dammit.” “No, that’s Blink 182 and that was track four,” I replied. “Fuck it.” “No,” I corrected, “‘Fuck It’ by Eamon was track ten.”
“Show me what?” I asked nervously. “My dick,” Johnny announced, twisting to face me. “You wanna see?” He smiled lazily up at me. “It’s all better now.” Gibsie threw his head back and howled laughing. Mr. Kavanagh joined him. “And Jesus wept,” Mrs. Kavanagh sobbed.