I picked out a '70s band tee-shirt and a black mini skirt to show off my curves. The leather pumps made my legs look skinnier than ever. I looked hot, and I knew it. I was going to flounce around right in front of you and be perfectly fine. And I was. I AM. At the end of the night when everyone was going home, I lingered near you. I needed to say something, needed to clear the air. You were smoking a Marlboro Red, the same ones you got me hooked on. I turned to you, making eye contact with you for the first time the whole night. "So...can we be good?" I shrugged my shoulders and you nodded in agreement. I put my hand out towards you, offering up a truce, forgetting everything that happened between us. You took my hand and shook it, shaking our past into oblivion where it belonged, like nothing ever happened. It was over. "Good," I said. "I'll see you at the next party." I smiled fondly at you, as a friend should and you looked relieved.
It was all finally over.
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