“You can let go of me, you know,” I tell Zack, who has his arm around me like a vice as he draws patterns on my thigh with his fingertips. “Can I?” He doesn’t move. He hasn’t for the past twenty minutes. Now, I think it’s clear that we’re not experts at this whole ‘group relationships’ thing — but I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to involve some more sharing. “I won’t run away.” I try to stand, and he yanks me back down, settling me back into the crook of his arm and sighing happily. “Zack.”
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