“They have a photo booth,” I tell him as I start walking towards it, but when he doesn’t move, I have to look behind me, and I find him staring at his hand. The one I’m holding. I try to pull mine away, a little embarrassed––I didn’t even realize I’d grabbed it––but his hand tightens in mine. A familiar glare quickly flashes on his face before it’s gone again, and then he’s walking with me. Holding my hand. I try not to swoon too fucking hard, but it’s a struggle. I have a feeling that this is a big deal to him. Like maybe he doesn’t hold hands usually, or it’s been awhile, or maybe he just
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