At his door, Mazdon began to reach behind him for his wallet and his face pinched in pain. “Stop it. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Mazdon’s response came out in a growl of pain-laced frustration. “I’ve got it.” He continued to reach behind him, but that time I stopped him by batting at his hand. “Knock it off. Damn stubborn hockey player.” The scoff he let out quickly turned into a gasp when I reached into his back pocket and grabbed both his wallet and a handful of his more than ample ass. “Not cool. We’re supposed to be talking tonight.” He snatched the wallet from me, feigning offense at
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