Chapter Content
Chapter 77: I Hate His Touch
After devouring the ice cream to relieve myself from the burning sensation—vanilla cream smearing glossy down my chin and soaking the front of my oversized t-shirt sheer—sheer enough to trace my bra—I had to change.
The sticky mess clung cold and weird to my skin, high ponytail frizzing damp, so now we were at the mall, bright fluorescents buzzing overhead.
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