Maggie Dallen

“I’m not your girl.”

“And you’re not his, either.”

“Come on, repeat after me,” Zack continues. “Zack, you look like sh⁠—”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“No, I’m serious.” He follows me to my side as I open the door and climb in. “Did your parents implant some sort of chip in your brain that makes it impossible for you to talk like a normal person?”
“Come on, Zack.”