“Yes, your move was lame?” I asked, confused. It was hard to think when he was looking at me like that. He shook his head slowly. “Yes, I’m jealous,” he clarified. I stopped my slow escape, shocked into stillness. How was he able to turn me inside out so easily? He never said or did what I expected him to. “What the hell?” I demanded, irrationally angry at him for making my heart flutter like a trapped butterfly in my chest. “I said I’m jealous. I don’t like seeing some other fucker’s number on you. I really don’t fucking like it, and it’s not happening again. You want to wear someone’s
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