“You know,” she said, propping her cheek on her hand, “I like being this way, actually.” “What, drunk? Yeah, lots of people do, Slo,” Matt replied. His hand was still on her shoulder, but it was warm now, from her skin. “Not drunk,” she said. “The way I am all the time. I am that way all the way through. No marshmallow center. Anybody else’ll tell you.” Albie was nodding along. “Maybe like . . . a lemon-juice center. Or a licorice center.” “Maybe other people don’t know you like I do,” Matt said gently. “Except this is me, telling you,” Sloane said, her voice suddenly firmer. “The Dark One
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