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I’m glad when I spot the familiar driveway that leads up to my parents’ place, because if I hear one more word about how great Ethan is, I’m liable to fling the door open and hurl myself out of the moving car.
If we argue, I can’t be held responsible for tossing a flower pot at his head.
Why am I here, being skillfully moved across the floor by Potter?
“But, hey. Look on the brightside,” she says, and stands up as she does. “Maybe he really loves your sister. He’s never proposed to one before.”
Go ahead and stamp ‘selfish’ onto my forehead.
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