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I Don't Care

Mila

Skylar and I were at The Cottage again on Saturday night. This time, I felt better. I had slept most of the day and having a break from the ICU and all the patients that were fighting for their lives had done me good. I was laughing again, and I didn’t feel like I was being dragged down by life itself anymore.

I had on a mint-green summer dress and ballerina flats. Skylar wore blue that made her eyes look like ice, and we sat at the bar, laughing and talking and drinking. Jerrod was with us, and even though I hadn’t been on the best terms with him, we were getting along tonight. I couldn’t always treat him like shit because my life hadn’t worked out the way I had wanted it to.

We were having a good time. Skylar was telling us about something that had happened at the offices where she worked, and Jerrod and I were in stitches. Skylar was hilarious when she was tipsy, and it was only getting worse.

“Can I join you?” a familiar voice said behind me. When I turned, Ben stood there in
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