Telling Mason about my failure to get into med school the other day was so utterly embarrassing. I still keep reliving it in my head. The look of pity on his face was painful to watch. I should have kept my damn mouth shut when he asked about my academic journals. After all, he’s a stranger—I’m under no obligation to share my secrets with him. But a part of me wanted to bare my soul to him. I didn’t want to hide or lie or skirt around the truth. What’s up with that? What’s this effect Dr. Pretty Boy has on me? I don’t know. There was just something in his eyes when he asked the
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