Her eyelids fluttered and I rested my head against the pillow, trying to pretend I hadn’t been committing every line of her face to memory. A date with Jules. An actual date. That would maybe end with another slow dance under the moonlight. I could only hope an act of god didn’t interrupt this time. We were doing things backward, but I was determined to do this right with her. Show her this wasn’t some bang and run thing. She’d told me before she wanted casual, but I wasn’t a casual guy, no matter what people thought about me. The assumption that football player equaled manwhore wasn’t lost on
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