“You wouldn’t be trying to lure me into inappropriate conversation, would you, Angel Annie?” In an instant, any playfulness I feel dies away with that awful nickname. It’s one thing when everyone else calls me that or taunts me with it—but from Will I can’t stand it. “Don’t call me that, please,” I say, allowing myself a rare moment of honesty. “I don’t like it.” I’m not looking at Will, but I can still feel his gaze. And then I can feel his fingers lightly clasp my elbow as if he were afraid I was about to drift off, and he needed to keep me there beside him. “Annie. I’m sorry.” His voice is
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