#23
#01 - 1
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But I don't want to be fine, not if it means she's going to let go of my hand; not if it means we're going to go back to being polite strangers.
Time has stopped; time is racing. Lochie's lips are rough yet smooth, hard yet gentle. His fingers are strong: I feel them in my hair and on my neck and down my arms and against my back. And I never want him to let me go.
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