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XVII.2

‘Fuck, Roger! What the fuck are you doing?!’ I cursed out as I looked away hoping that Idris was in deep slumber and not faking anything. I was greatly hoping he’s not awake at all because if he was, I’m screwed. I’m hella screwed.

I couldn’t shake the relentless thought of kissing Idris off of my mind and I don’t think I could ever talk to him ever again after that. Even when I got home, I’m still worried that he might actually be faking the sleep and I’m in serious trouble. I don’t understand why I did it but I’m trying the hardest to convince myself it didn’t happen at all.

“What’s going on, Roger? You look like something’s bothering you.” I sat in my usual spot during dinner when my mom noticed that I was spacing out. I guess I’ve been staring at the bowl of stew for quite a long time.

“What?” I heard what she said but

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