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Clara was special. Is special. She’s a mosaic of a person. So many differing, unique elements that create one perfect thing. A little chaotic and a whole lot of mess involved—but beautiful all the same.
I’m either a narcissist—and can only get off using my own imagination by myself—or I’m not as straight as I thought I was this morning. Hell, an hour ago. I might have a crush on my fake girlfriend.
“I’m not sure what’s going on with me,” she whispers. “But I think I like it.” “Kissing girls?” “Kissing you,”

