“Even if it wasn’t written in the stars, or whatever, I would’ve wanted to meet you and get to know you. You’re smart and funny and you get my sense of humor—even if you do hit me with pillows when you’re mad.”
Jordan bopped him with a small pillow from the ratty basement couch.
“Dammit, do you have one in every room just so you can hit me?”
He laughed, taking the pillow from her, popping her on the head with it. They wrestled around, grabbing the pillow, giving one another playful blows with it.
“I have an idea,” Jordan said, breathless and laughing. “We have a sparring mat in the other room.”
“What other room?”
She beckoned to him, leading him passed the laundry room to an almost invisible door…
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