A S H L E Y

Then his eyes land on someone by the punch bowl. “Who’s that?” I shrug. “Can I go talk to her?” I raise a brow at him, at the blush creeping up his face, and I gesture forward. Good luck, I sign, and he signs back, I don’t need luck. I’m a Vize.
Little Liar (The Web of Silence Duet, #2)
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