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... the hallway carpet, I broke into a sprint. I’d just body-slammed my asshole great-grandfather and threatened to commit arson against an educational institution.
Record time, Clara. Job well done.
I’m literally one wrong move away from being shipped to a convent or, worse, the asylum. And let’s be real, I do not have the aesthetic for a habit.
My skin still crawled where Bartholomew’s presence had invaded my space. Every inch of me screaming for a scalding shower and maybe ...
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