PREVIEW
... of the voice that had interrupted our conversation. And even as I turned, something told me I already knew what to expect.
The certainty that I felt as I turned to face the owner of the voice was like a lodestone.
There, standing not far from where we had been conversing, would be a young man, his features contorted in a mask of anger and irritation as he watched me make a move on his girl.
She might not even be his girl, maybe just a crush.
Yet his possessiveness ...
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