Pinky Matis
By LilDean. [google-translator] “That squeaky hinge,” Brooke groaned, tossing her towel onto a plastic chair. “Seriously, Matis? Oil that thing already.” She ran fingers through her buzzed green hair, grinning as the metal gate screeched again behind Kimmy. I tried focusing on the lemonade pitcher sweating onto the patio table. Really tried. But Brooke’s bare feet fascinated me—long toes with chipped turquoise polish, the high arches flexing against sun-warmed concrete as she stretched her lean frame. Her neon-green
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