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The moment the final yellow bus pulls out of the lot, I walk to the visitors’ side of the stadium.

Easton is nowhere to be found.

Before I can call him, he wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my neck.

“Ahhh…” I moan as he gently bites my skin and slides a hand into my pants.

“I told you that this belongs to me,” he whispers, “Don’t give any other guy the hope of ever getting it.”

"I won’t.” I suck in a breath as he rubs my clit.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes….”

“Say it then,” he warns. “Tell me your pussy is mine."

‘”It’s…” I pause as he unzips the back of my uniform, as he bites my neck a bit harder.

"Scarlett, tell me."

“My pussy is yours…”

* * *

The ride home is silent,save for the occasional peck on my cheek from Easton and the fleeting sound of his air conditioning sputtering every time we hit a stoplight.

When he pulls behind the garden hedge that blocks our house from the neighbors, he puts the car in park and looks at me.

“Thank you,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. “I’ll see you later, Easton Rush.”

He cups my chin and kisses my forehead. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Okay.”

I slip through the garden and stop when I see shadows dancing through the windows.

My mom and Tully are doing the polka dance atop the dining room table. Like a truly “responsible” parent, my mom chugs a beer and hands the can to Tully.

My mind races with thoughts of what this means, and I settle on the best possible option: The hospital has finally written to us and admitted that they made a mistake.

Me and Tully are NOT related!

“Come up here and join us, Scarlett!” My mom squeals when I make it through the door.

“No, that’s okay.” I hang my bag. “Someone needs to stay down here just in case one of you falls.”

“We’re not going to fall, girl!” She picks up a beer and tosses it to me. “We’re going higher!”

“And higher!” Tully is definitely drunk. “Drink up and celebrate!”

I crack the can and take a small sip. “What’s the occasion?”

“You are looking at the new ‘Freshman Girl’ face for Whimstery Cafe!” Tully squeals. “I mean, technically I won’t be announced until I’m actually a college freshman, but I’ve already been paid an advance!”

I take a longer sip.

“Everyone will need to be all-in for Tully for every upcoming Thursday in two weeks,” my mom says. “Outside of what you’ve already scheduled, don’t make plans for anything else, okay?”

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