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“What are you doing?” I hissed, stealing a glance at him once we were out of sight of my friends. “Rescuing you, apparently.” “I don’t need to be rescued.” He chuckled, low and deep. “You sure about that?”
“And maybe I’m Mary fucking Poppins.”
“See, that’s where you’re confused,” I said. “I don’t start things. I finish them.”

