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“you’re honestly the prettiest girl i’ve ever met,” naomi gushed, wine glass in one hand and mascara wand in the other. “okay, open and look up.” she applied the makeup careful, though the wine nearly sloshing over the brim of the glass was a good sign of how drunk she was. “seriously. i know it’s not very girl power of me to say, but i’m, like, really jealous of you. look down for me. god, amsterdam isn’t ready for us, tonight.”
















