“Face it. You’d walk all over the guy in your glittery red-bottom boots, and he’d probably thank you for it.” “Damn right he should. These babies are beautiful and expensive.” I knock my heels together. “That comment alone makes you worthy of your costume because only a walking, talking red flag would smile like that.” I yank myself free of his gravitational pull. “Excuse me?” “Your costume.” His gaze slowly travels down my body, emphasizing his point. “La voy a matar1,” I whisper to myself. “You didn’t know?” Julian traces the tip of the triangular piece of paper. “No. Lily put it together.”
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