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He gets one latch but keeps fiddling with the other. D’oh! he newspaper says, running his hands through his hair. Sorry, I’m not terribly smooth. That’s all right. I am. I unhook it and let the bra slide to the floor. * * * Oh. My. God. What time is it? Am I naked? DID I HAVE SEX WITH CHAD? He snores softly beside me, one arm flopped over my newspaper side. Blech, his arm newspaper is hairy. There’s a thin crust of drool around his mouth. I stare at the top bunk above me, trying to figure out how to escape. Finally, I slip out from underneath him and leave a note to call me later. Kat’s not home yet (thankfully), and I fall asleep planning what I’m going to tell her tomorrow. Kat, you’ll be proud of me. No: Kat, you’re starting to rub off. But I wake up the next morning, and she’s still not home.
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