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Chapter 14: Easing Into It
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Chapter 16: The Countdown to Hell
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... —except for the roar of my bike and the occasional squeeze of her arms around me whenever I took a sharp turn. She held onto me tight, and I liked it more than I should.
By the time we reached her neighborhood, I was regretting this entire deal.
Because it was getting harder to remember that it was fake.
I pulled up outside a house that looked way too perfect, way too polished—like the kind of place you put on postcards. Everything was neat, trimmed, organized. Fake. Just ...
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