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America Singer, you get back here." He ran in front of me, wrapping an arm around my waist as we stood, chest to chest. "Tell me," he whispered. I pinched my lips together. "Fine, then I shall have to rely on other means of communication." Without any warning, he kissed me.

Kiera Cass (2013). “The Elite”, p.18, Harper Collins
America Singer, you get back here. He ran in front of me, wrapping an arm around my waist as we stood, chest to chest. Tell me, he whispered. I pinched my lips together. Fine, then I shall have to rely on other means of