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Jack rests a hand lightly on the porcelain, skimming forward to catch one of Kent’s wrists, where it’s dangling off the edge of the tub. Kent immediately turns his hand over, and wraps two fingers around Jack’s own wrist loosely, tugging in a way that says, why aren’t you in here with me yet, huh?
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“Not a girl then?”
“It was, yeah,” Jack admits, throat feeling a little tight, “you were the girl.”
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