“That’s how this works. I mean, we’ve literally taken turns trying to stab one another for fun.” “Exactly,” August whispered. “For fun. Come on. Don’t act like you don’t like it.” Wren scoffed. “I don’t—” “In fact, I think you love it.” August stepped toward her, closing the space between them, their faces mere inches apart. “Fighting with me. Our constant bickering. The desperate need we have to try to find a way to feel alive. Admit it.” “No,” Wren replied, voice wavering. “I—I hate you.” “Do you want to know what I think?” He leaned in even closer. Close enough that he could imagine the
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