“Peyton! I’ll text Peyton. She’ll know what to do. I quickly fire off a text and wait for her response. *I’ll be there in ten* Thank you, God. Sure enough, ten minutes later, Peyton bursts through the door of my bedroom. “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asks, concern in her tone as she takes in my appearance. I’m still in my pajamas, and I’m pacing my floor. “Sit. We should sit,” I say, panicking. “Cassidy?” “I have to tell you something,” I blurt. “Good. I have t...o tell you something, too,” she immediately replies. For the first time, I notice how scared she looks. “Okay, you go first,” I offer, appearing polite, but really I’m just passing the buck, stalling for time. “Please don’t hate me, okay?” “I won’t,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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