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june 11th, 2026
5:39 am

SUNDAY TRACED THE SEVERAL TATTOOS on Brandon's forearm, the strong feeling of Deja Vu inside her

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SUNDAY TRACED THE SEVERAL TATTOOS on Brandon's forearm, the strong feeling of Deja Vu inside her.

Back in college, Sunday would do this exact motion she was doing now: pressing her fingers to his skin and tracing her fingertips against the various tattoos intimately.

Back then everything had been simple until Sunday had unintentionally complicated things and now she was falling into the same pattern.

But she just couldn't help herself, she was in love.

Sunday just had to be with Brandon, she knew that was a fact the same way that she knew that the sun was hot and the sky was blue.

I'm just glad that he feels the same way.

At that thought, Sunday flickered his eyes to his face and failed to resist the urge to stare.

He was awake but quiet, his eyes fixated on Sunday's most recent painting in the corner of her bedroom and his arm tight around her, "Who's that for?"

"This guy I met last year in Property Law," Sunday replied in a sleepy tone.

"Would you ever paint me?" Brandon asked in a quiet tone, an effort to not make too much noise and wake up Jeanette, who's room was only a few feet away.

"You hate sitting still," Sunday replied in the same tone, "It would be torture for you."

"That's true," Brandon laughed quietly before he turned his head on the pillow to look at her, "Have you spoken to your brother lately? How's your dad?"

Sunday let out a worried sigh, nestling further into his body heat, "The last time we spoke, Noah said that he was stable, nothing's changed and that he still didn't want me to visit. At least not right now."

"Are you okay? I know how close you and your dad are. This has to sting." Brandon brought a hand to her cheek and began to lightly cascade his thumb on her skin.

Sunday released a slow blink, "You know that you're the first person to ask me that lately? I honestly can't remember the last time I got asked that."

"Are you gonna give me an answer?" Brandon asked.

"I... I don't know," Sunday admitted in a whisper, "My head is cluttered. Some days are better than others. It would clear a little more if my dad would let me see him more than once a month."

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