“What’s this?” I asked. Pain was rolling off him in waves, but that didn’t stop him from smirking. “My grocery list.” He lifted his right hand off the bed just enough to make a little waving motion. “Hop to it.” Clearly, he wanted me to murder him.
“If this is how you act when you hate me,” he says, glancing down at my hands on his body, “then I wouldn’t mind if you hated me more.”
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