“One more question,” he says slowly, turning it over in his hand, “then we can put the game away.” Rising from a crouch, he thoughtfully brings the card over to the sink, grabbing two glasses before filling them with water. After setting them in front of us, he lifts the card to read it. “Never have I ever been in love.” His eyes meet mine, a starry night against snow-capped mountains. He doesn’t make a move toward his drink. But I do. Holding his gaze, I pick up my glass and drain its contents before placing it in the sink. Neither of us looks away from the other. I don’t think he’s
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