kaz ruby 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

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“Danika,” he says, his tone serious, indicating he’s no longer joking. “I mean it. I love being ridiculous with you. I love being anything with you. I think…I think I’m the brightest version of myself when I’m with you.” In that moment, the words I’ve been running from for thirteen years cross my mind without hesitation. I could love you again, I think. Maybe I already do.
What Happens in Amsterdam
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