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“Hi. I’m Trevor’s roommate.” I’m about to wish her well and continue on about my day, but for reasons beyond me, I thrust my plate in her direction. “Want a Pop-Tart? It’s raspberry.” She eyes it like it’s a rare delicacy. “You are doing the lord’s work. I’m starving.”
And I don’t want to go slow, because I can barely breathe when I think about living my life without you. I want to complain while you watch Disney movies. I want to alphabetize your books. I want to read with you at night. I want to tolerate your mess. I want . . .” He lets out a weak half laugh. “I want a family. One day. I want to do literally anything as long as it means being with you, because I am so in love with you, I don’t know what to do with myself.”
The gasp I emit is embarrassing. The first item I pull out is a crumpled McDonald’s receipt for a Big Mac and Quarter Pounder combo. From the night he took me out for food after my disastrous date with Segway Jeff. “You kept this?” I ask, misty eyes catching his gaze over my shoulder. He presses a soft kiss on my temple. “Yup.”
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“I’m just . . . happy.” “Even if you’re not getting your second-chance romance?” “Trevor, you are a million times better than any trope I could ever dream up.” He meets my smile, and I swear his entire face lights up brighter than Times Square.
[Trevor appears in the frame, albeit begrudgingly. He plants a chaste yet loving kiss on Tara’s temple and peaces out.]

