I’d agonised over texting him all day, and hadn’t yet plucked up the courage by the time nine p.m. rolled around. I knew he’d be busy now, with the wrestling about to start, and I didn’t want to be the sad loser texting him on a Saturday night while he was… I dunno, having a pre-show orgy with all the big hunky wrestlers or something. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t actually be doing that, but still. Maybe he’d hired another stripper for the night, or got that guy back to satisfy whatever craving he currently had. Avid reader with a gift card in a bookstore, maybe. Or gambling addict on a winning
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