and I throw her shirt at her. “Put that back on.” I unbutton my pants, dig a condom out of my wallet (because I’m not a fucking idiot), and toss it on the nightstand. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? I’m standing here pretty much naked, and you’re demanding I put my shirt back on, Graham,” Amanda argues. She won’t win this round. Sliding the shirt over her head is the wisest decision. I won’t change my mind, and she knows it. “You’re absurd, you know that? You are the only boy I know who demands a girl put clothes on first.” My rule started freshman year after losing my virginity to Shelly
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