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Leah

I looked at myself for the umpteenth time today. I was definitely good enough, my body was banging according to British tourists I met in Chile. I could get with anyone I wanted.

So why was I still looking across the lawns to see if Xander came back this morning?

Why was I so keen on getting hurt? Because that's what he does, over and over again. Maybe I was immune to it, maybe I loved getting hurt because I keep getting myself in these impossible situations.

Ugh!

I couldn't even blame him though. If the girl I was attracted to was promised to another man and didn't tell me, I'd be pissed. My guess was as good as any as to how he found out. I mean, it's not like my dad told him, why would he?

It doesn't matter how he found out, he believed what he heard and didn't even give me a chance to explain. I can't help but analyze the moment over and over again. My poor misguided heart searched for expressions on Xander's face that didn't make him the woman eater he portrayed to be,
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