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“Oh, this poor, dumb girl,” Alana suddenly says, coming around to our side of the fire to show us her phone. “Just peeped his social media. He’s got a girlfriend.”
“It’s a girls’ thing.” “Yeah, real wild night you’re having,” I drawl, gesturing at her glass of water. “Someone’s got a good girl complex, huh?”
“You’re an attractive woman alone in a crowded bar with your face glued to your phone because there’s somewhere else you’d rather be. And wherever that place is, there’s someone who’s having fun
without you. Yet you’re sitting here wearing your boredom as a badge of loyalty, with some misguided notion that being miserable proves what a good person you are. So, yeah, I think you’re lonely. I think you’re so desperate for a good time you’re
secretly glad I walked over here. In the deepest, darkest part of your brain, you want me to give...
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People spend their whole lives complaining about things they’re unwilling to change. At a certain
point, either pluck up the courage or shut up.”
For the first time since we hatched this plan, I’m starting to wonder if I’m in over my head.
“Yeah, I did. And I’m the one who threw her at you. I guess I’m not allowed to be jealous.” Mac growls softly. “But I fucking am.” “Welcome to the club,” I growl back. “The thought of anyone but
me putting their hands on you makes me homicidal.”
“I’m not fucking anyone else. I don’t want you fucking anyone else. If anyone looks at you funny, I’m breaking their face. How’s that work?”
“I’m not afraid of commitment, if that’s what you’re suggesting.” “Uh-huh,” she says.
“I’ll commit the shit out of you.”