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Chapter 10: At The Door
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... oor?
No, back up.
How the fuck does Logan Everett know where I live? Stalker vibes much?
And yet I'm still scrambling to open the door, my body not on the same wavelength as my brain.
Said brain short-circuits at the sight before me. Logan stands in my hallway like some divine punishment for my sins. His worn t-shirt clings to his chest, outlining every ridge and valley of his sculpted torso. The jeans riding low on his hips aren't helping my mental state either. ...
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