I squeeze my eyes shut and conjure up images of JP and his dirty pigeon friend. What’s its name? Cocoon? Carl? “Clementine?” I accidentally say out loud. “What?” Lia whispers. “Uh, Clementine,” I repeat, for God knows what reason. “Like the fruit?” “Sure,” I answer. “Why are you saying that?” “Can’t think of JP’s pigeon friend.” “Kazoo?” “Ohhhhh, right.” I smile to myself. “Kazoo.” “Why are you thinking about JP and Kazoo?” So I don’t get a boner. Because your ass is pressed right up against my pelvis, and if I even move a little, I know the friction will be enough to give me a semi. “He was
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