hope like hell that she can love me the way I love her. I’m pounding on her door, my fist knocking against the flimsy wood, my heart damn near beating out of my chest. A shuffle behind the door, the lock flips, and then she’s standing there, drop-dead gorgeous in reading glasses and sweat pants. “Hi.” I breathe reverently, because it’s been a while since my eyes drank her in. “Smith?” Molly looks genuinely confused. “Wait a minute, why are you here? Isn’t tonight—” “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Jesus Christ, I’ve been such a fucking idiot. I should have come here weeks ago. Shit, I should
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