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"Morning," Newt greeted me the next day. He threw his bag to the ground and met my eyes, grinning shyly.

For half a second I debated changing the routine. I wanted to say, good morning, I can still taste you on my lips. Instead I rolled my eyes and said, "It's not a good morning."

Newt's smile grew. "Sure it is!" He said. "The sun's shining, the birds are chirping, the wind is blowing, the--you're staring at my lips, nimrod."

My gaze flicked back up. "Wha--oh. My bad."

I didn't apologize though. Newt gave me an exasperated look, then began to pull out his notes.

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