Am I really that bad? Am I that much of a jealous asshole? The answers to those questions I know myself, but I’m sure as hell not going to admit them. A nervous blush flashes across her cheeks and she seems almost scared. She spots me stalking toward her from her peripherals and angles her head slightly to look at me. I see her and the two guys she’s talking to. How does someone look perfect from every angle? Of course only she can manage something so mind blowing. I let them roam up the length of her legs, over the curves of her body, and onto the side of her face. When I’m about to give up and start socializing, a large group of men in black suits step out of the way and my eyes are drawn to a purple fabric like a moth to flame.
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