Sarah Ziemann

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“Or you low-key stalk me.” She laughs, shouldering past me with a lively glint in her brown eyes, and she doesn’t stop until she’s on the mound. “Okay, Playboy. School me.” With a smirk too deep to hide, I grab the ball from the dirt and head her way, keenly aware that our mandated time together ended exactly seventeen minutes ago. And the girl’s still here.
Dirty Curve
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