“Mal.” I raise an eyebrow. “Aurora.” “Just so you know, I have a boyfriend,” she says matter-of-factly, peeling my pea coat from her shoulders and throwing it my way. I catch it, and as I do, raise my left hand in the air, palm facing me, so she can see the gold band on my ring finger. “Good for you, sweetheart,” I deadpan, twisting the ring around. “Reached first base yet? Carved your initials on a tree? Maybe you gave each other purity rings,” I ponder, then shake my head. “Nah. Too late for that.” I don’t think she listened to any of my monologue, though. She is solely focused on the
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