"Do you love me?" The words slip out like they’ve been daring me to say them for weeks. Meiko’s basketball stops spinning in his hand. He doesn’t look at me — just grins, slow and dangerous. "That’s the problem with you," he says, leaning back on his bed. "You always want to win the game before it’s even started." My chest tightens. "And what game is this?" "The one where I make you admit you’re already mine."
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