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A spike of envy worms through my chest. I wish I had a Carter or a Zeke to text me. I wish I had someone who was my own.
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“Well, I still don’t like that he was so rude to you, but maybe we should give him the benefit of the doubt. I mean”—he grimaces, shooting me a crooked smile—“I’m literally in love with one of the rudest people I’ve met, so.”
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I’m certain the real Atlas behind the walls is worth knowing, as long as I can get past the Atlas guarding the gate.
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“Carter is easy,” I say, waving a hand. “Carter is like…he is like a rose. Thorns, yes, but also a flower. Atlas is only the thorns.”
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“All right,” I say, turning my face into the pillow. It’s a nice pillow, and it doesn’t seem to be moving. I like this pillow. “But tomorrow maybe we could try the kissing.”
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“Did I hit on you?” His gaze snaps back to mine and I shrug. “I’m a flirty drunk and you’re hot.”
“I think I am mostly wanting someone that I might like to talk with, and maybe lie under a blanket with to watch hockey, and also touch my hair.”
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I like seeing the way Carter’s face has become softer these last two years, and his mouth is quicker to smile. I like seeing how animated Max has become, as though Luke is a battery he’s drawing energy from. I like how happy they all are and I like that I am a part of it. I love them.
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“I am only wanting to be here with you, Bärchen. I will be saying no to everyone who is not Atlas.”
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“It is…little bear? Kleiner Bär. Because you are cute, and a little bit mean, yes?”
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