My phone buzzes beside me, and when I see Fletcher’s name, I drop it into the laundry basket at my feet, full of clean socks and underwear and my vibrating phone. I have no clue what I would even say right now, or if he even remembered last night’s moment in the closet. I let the phone ring out until it’s fully silent before snaking it out of the basket and checking my recent text. Fletcher: Sorry if I made things weird last night. Me: It wasn’t weird! He starts typing, stops, then starts, and stops. I figure he’s not going to say anything else, but the vibrations come back, and he’s calling
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