Chapter 3 - Why Would You Wear Ripped Jeans

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I made a face at her. "I don't know what you're talking about. He's half decent-ish person, half jackass. I don't want anything to do with him like that. Neither of us are interested. 

She pursed her lips. "Uh huh. None of those sound like valid reasons to me. He's adorable," she stated. 

I sent another glaring look at his back. "If you're into dark and brooding, maybe. I mean, look at his clothes even. Why on earth would you wear ripped jeans? I wear my jeans until I get rips in them and have to donate them," I grumbled. 

"Yeah, well, you're just too practical then," Lisanne shrugged. "That's fair. I still ship you two, though."

My eyes widened as I stared at her. "You did not just say that out loud," I said in hilarious disbelief. 

"I so did," she challenged. 

"Stick to shipping your TV characters and leave me out of it," I laughed. 

She stood up from leaning against the lockers and winked at me. "Ship it," she said in a sing-song voice as she sashayed away. "See you at lunch," she called out behind her.

I shut my locker door and pressed my back against it for a second, holding a notebook to my chest. From down the hall I swear to God I could feel Grayson's eyes lift up and glance at me. I looked over just in time to see his back turn, walking away.

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