“This has to stop,” she says when she turns to me. “You can’t just come here and give me lifts and buy us stuff.” “Why?” I ask, and I have to think she is the proudest person I have ever met. “Because you just can’t.” “What if I want to?” I say softly. “What if I want to take you to dinner?” I ask. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says. “I don’t care,” I finally say, and she looks at me in shock. “I don’t care what is a good idea and what isn’t. What I care about is that I want to get to know you, and I want you to give me a chance.” “You just feel sorry for me,” she says, trying not to
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