Amber After that very strange, but surprisingly good night out at the bar, I did my best to hide from him for the next couple days. When we were sitting at the bar, our legs touching slightly, I felt it: that tingle down my spine, that buzz on my lips. We ate, he asked about me, made me laugh, and toward the end of the night, our fingers touched as we reached for the check, and I stared into his eyes, and I knew in that moment that if he’d kissed me, right then and there at the bar, I would’ve kissed him back. We walked back together, said goodnight, and I’ve been hiding from him ever since. I should hate him. I don’t understand what the heck would attract me to a guy like that. He robbed a man in front of me for fun. I hated that sort of thing, hated men that bragged about crime and thought it was exciting, hated that sort of macho arrogant crap most of all, and yet somehow, he was different. He didn’t seem to take himself too seriously, and he made jokes all the time, and of cou
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