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“Het, you with me?” he tried. He turned the key for the Mustang to shutter off, its headlights extinguishing, the noise buffer of the radio ceasing, and James said nothing. So Jason stepped out, stretched out his shoulders before ducking back into the car to shake his leg. “C’mon, man, we’re—”
James grabbed his hand. Squeezed it as he spoke slow. “Either we do this, or— or you take me home.”
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