“You really weren’t scared when my dad started talking about how you’re six-seven and could hurt me while we’re having sex?” Farrow almost chokes on a bite of Lo Mein. Maximoff laughs like he just beat his fiancé at Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots. The best (and quite frankly, sexiest) part: Thatcher is unperturbed and unflustered by the tiny grenade I flung. “No,” he tells me. “I wasn’t scared.” I help him fill water bowls for the cats. “You think it went well then?” I wonder. He glances at me, before wiping up a small spill. “Better than I thought it would.” But he’s still not invited to Wednesday
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