vital. “Oh my god, what is it called again?” I ask. “The name of our winery?” Oliver says, confused. “No, that word for when you feel bad for someone but also, at the same time, can’t bring yourself to feel that sorry for them at all.” Cyrus releases a breath of laughter, then immediately hides it by pressing a fist to his lips. “It’s okay, you only need to feel slightly sorry for me,” Oliver tells me, unbothered, and grins. “Just sorry enough to go out with me.” I raise my brows. Every time I let myself entertain the idea that Oliver and I could become actual friends, he’ll say something like
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