His eyebrows rose, amusement barely entering his eyes. “I’d take a chimpanzee dressed in a tuxedo before taking you.” Then, I smiled my version of Rosie’s fake, toothy grin. “Nothing to think about.” I cut my hand through the air between us. “I might be desperate to find a date, but I’m not that desperate,” I repeated. So, why? Why was he pretending to offer me help, and why would I humor him by even considering it? Not only that, but it had actually been him, the one causing our fallout. And I was pretty sure he would have done the same because I wasn’t the only one driving along Hate Boulevard. At some point in the past, I would have thrown darts at a poster of his face. We were spiteful to each other, pointed out each other’s mistakes, criticized how differently we worked, thought, and lived. We barely tolerated each other, Aaron Blackford and I.
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