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ADELINE

The “rounds,” as it turns out, are Reid pulling me from group to group like a show-and-tell prize he refuses to set down. Every few feet someone claps him on the back, shouts his name, or chirps about the last game. Every single time, his arm winds tighter around my waist, or his chin dips to brush my temple, or his lips find the crown of my head in a fleeting kiss that makes my stomach so