Matt glances up from his cell to the television just in time to see Ryan Gosling wading through the lake. “Shit,” he mutters, swiping the remote off the coffee table and stabbing the fast-forward button. “Close your eyes for five seconds.” I do as I’m told. It’s pointless though, because we’ve been watching The Notebook on a loop for hours, so the kiss is burned into the backs of my eyelids anyway. When it came on screen four showings ago, I let out a whimper so loud it woke Matt up from his nap beside me. He hasn’t let the scene play through since. Keeping my eyes closed, I choke back the
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