The weak light of day was fading like Gareth Gates' career as we sat side by side on the comfortable bed. Neil looked out of the window at the blushing sky; I gazed at the tiny gap between the top of his jeans and his clean white T-shirt. He turned to me, and I quickly averted my gaze, staring intently at my worthy book
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I'm British. We don't have happy endings over here.
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