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Summary
“Do you need a hand, miss president?”
Love sighed and didn’t bother to push the athlete away since she could use an extra hand in cleaning.
“Go fix those chairs.” She told her.
Milk nodded. “Aye, aye.” The president rolled her eyes before resuming to sweep the floor.
It was silent for a bit but knowing that Milk was here—Love’s moment of silence was quickly ruined.
“Can I expect you at the match this Friday?" The athlete asked while placing the chairs on top of the table.
“You wish.” Love retorted.