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Eleven
“Cool.” Sylviane slid down to the ground and landed, knees bent, before hopping up to grab the bar right in front of him. “You’re kind of fun.”
“I’m – I’m glad.” He was fun? Well, he looked at her thoughtfully. “Do I get to pretend to be drunk? That’s almost as fun as being drunk.”
She snorted, pleased. “As long as you don’t mind me slapping you if you get too carried away with the whole thing.”
“Heck, I might even like it.” Wait, what was he saying? Well, it was too late to take it back now.
“Oh, really?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “I think you’re going to be fun.”
“You said I already was fun.” Continue reading