Liz ✨

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“Stop looking at me like that,” he said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. It had dried on his ride and now sat curled and golden on his head. “Like what?” “Like that.” “Don’t all the boys you do that to look at you like this, after?” Maybe it was a pathetic attempt to find out how many boys there were, or maybe it was an attempt to make myself look less...less in love. But his eyes grew very serious as he looked at me. “No,” He said. “No one looks at me the way you do.”
Oleander: A Great Expectations Reimagining
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