“So,” she shifts the subject. “Should we talk about last night?” Stevie’s twin brain is synced with mine as I look out of the corner of my eye, finding my mirrored expression on her face, knowing smirk and all. “What do you want to talk about?” I ask, feigning innocence. She laughs. “You’re so full of shit. It’s obvious you asked me to drive you home instead of Harold so we can talk about this, so start talking, Superstar.” Fuck, sometimes it’s scary how well we know each other. “I might have a little thing for your best friend.” “Ha!” she bursts out a laugh. “Good God, Ry. Want to try
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