“Of course, Carter. I’ll be at all of the home games,” he plucks at the front of my hoodie, “as long as I can keep this for a little bit longer.” “You can keep it,” I tell him, practically salivating over the thought. I really need to tone it down with the crushing-on-Zeke thing. “Yeah?” He brightens, eyes glinting silver in the artificial light of the restaurant. “It’s all yours,” I respond. He grins, shaking out the sleeves so that his hands are free to pick up his burrito and take a bite. It’s the smallest piece of clothing I own, yet still far too big on him. I like that fact far, far more
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