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The arm swiped at my waist from out of nowhere. Way too distracted, it took me a second to realize it was Dex who had an arm wrapped around me, pulling me to his side. His fingers clenched the material of my cardigan.
“You know damn well you don’t come into my shop demandin' shit, callin' my girl a bitch.” In the words of a rap song my neighbor used to play on his boombox when I was a kid: Hold up, wait a minute.
