![]() ![]() I guess it’s a good thing I don’t sweat, I tell her with a cheeky grin just to piss her off.įuck you very much, I can’t help it that I sweat like a truck driver. I’m so not good with these kinds of situations. I’m about thirty seconds away from a full-blown panic attack. She always did have a way with words, but that doesn’t mean what she’s saying is any less true. Her eyes find mine in the mirror before going back to her magazine. ![]() Like it matters where the whore is? The point is the bitch is scared, and so are you. Amara’s eyes are fixed to her version of the holy bible-gossip magazines. It’s not, but for some reason I’m having a lot of trouble deciding what to wear. Amara has been sitting on my bed, watching as I tear through dress after dress like this is a first date. Isn’t it a whore in church? I ask, scrunching my eyebrows and tilting my head at her reflection in the mirror playfully. You look hot, but you’re freaking out and it’s going to make you start sweating like a whore at the beach. ![]() You need to calm the hell down, Amara, my roommate, tells me in no uncertain terms. ![]()
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