I take her hand—it fits perfectly in mine. On the way down the steps, I’m practically carrying her, supporting her arms. She waves goodbye to a few people, and the second we get outside, she deflates. I let her arm go, because now that we’ve left the party, the ruse is over. Something in my gut sinks. That all felt too easy, and I know how dangerous that is. “Oh my god,” she breathes, closing her eyes. “That was a lot.” “Pippa.” I fold my arms over my chest so I don’t do something stupid like touch her hair or waist again. We aren’t pretending anymore. “You killed it.” She snorts, rolling her
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