Chapter 11

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Dean

I fumble for my phone, my hands hot and sweaty as I sort if from my pocket.

"Hi?"

"Dean? Are you okay?" my mom asks.

"Yeah mom," I say, staring around at the bodies of the other kids, mostly unclothed, as lie with their partners in the grass, giggling, high and drunk off their heads. All just having a good time. I am standing in the remains of the bonfire, flames still licking around my bare feet. "Everything is fine."

"Where are you? I want you to come home I'm just—can you come home? Do you mind?"

"I'm really kind of tired," I say, keeping my voice as level as possible. "Pick me up at Seamus' in the morning, okay?"

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too," I hang up and shove the phone back in my pocket. Then I look at my hands. they're smoldering. This is so not okay. But it also feels so fucking great.

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