God, where did he get off? He’s all like “Hey, babe. I’m”—insert hair flip and surfer boy tone—“Will Grayson. Should we, like, maybe get together and mate? We can totally honeymoon in Hawaii. I’ll put a stamp in your passport and make all your dreams come true.” Which, of course, we wouldn’t need our passports, because Hawaii was still in our own country! I growled under my breath, breathing hard as rain fell harder, blurring the road in front of me. I turned on the wipers, my brain calming a little. Okay, okay. He wasn’t that dumb. He wasn’t dumb at all. He would know Hawaii was in America.
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