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Chapter 97: Martinis are Not Clothing

I flick off the light in Trey's hallway bathroom and walk toward his kitchen. We left the restaurant after Mari's outrageous display, which sucks because the view was great and I'm starved. I tug on the hem of the azure button down shirt Trey loaned me while he promised to save my sweater. His long sleeve shirt is large on me, but since I'm tall it doesn't completely cover up the plaid boxers I'm using as shorts, also from Trey's dresser. I'm not sure why he thinks the sweater can't be washed. But working on it made him stop muttering obscenities about Mari, so I ran with it.

Honestly the man's more upset about it than I am, and I was the one wearing a martini. A double from the amount I soaked up. I give the shirt one last tug and turn the corner to find Trey leaning over his kitchen sink with both hands submerged in the tub of bubbly water.

I lean on the entryway to the room, a little hesitant to enter for some reason. "Do you own anything besides button down shirts?"

"Yes, but
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