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Summary
Okay. So, there’s that. Will. On his mind. But not the way he used to occupy Macklin’s thoughts– not jealous comparisons of their college stats at their respective schools. Not annoyance at his perfect fucking cheekbones or his easy smile. No, today he just sits there in his mind, taking up space. Like a new groove has been etched into Macklin’s brain matter, and it spells out “William Charles Patrick Smith, #2.”
