"You know," she mused though her face was blank as she handed me her cigarette stained with her blood red lipstick "our story would be a unique one. Not the good girl and the bad boy, not the bad girl and bad boy, not nerd and popular, not prep and jock. It would be weirdo and weirdo." *** I couldn't possibly love her, but, like usual, all possibilities are endless when she kissed me like that.
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