Briana

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“I think,” he whispers, his breath tickling me until I shiver, “that this is beyond us. It makes sense. Probably more sense than anything else.” “Why?” “Because we fit together.” We do? “Don’t you feel it?” he murmurs, nipping at my earlobe. My chest fills. My stomach flutters. Yes, I want to say. I’ve felt it for months.
Underneath the Sycamore Tree
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