Elle

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“Can I ask one favor?” “What do you want?” “When you’re mixing your little beakers of poison, could you make this one hurt? Hurt bad?” Alex smiled in spite of her fear. “That I can manage.” He pursed his lips for a minute. “This is weird, Ollie. I… well, I almost like you right now.” “The feeling will pass.” “You’re right—it’s fading already.”
The Chemist
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