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32| What About Oliver?

The closer I get to Harry, the more I'm able to make out the satisfied smirk on his face directed at me.

"Don't smirk at me." I grunt as I walk up the small steps into the temple.

His smirk turns into a full-on grin, and I scowl. He doesn't make any attempt to stand up from the table; he rests his elbows against the table and intertwines his fingers.

I drag the only other chair around the table and take a seat.

"The dress is a perfect fit." He says, and I'm not able to tell whether it is a compliment or a common observation.

"Don't talk to me." I raise my hand to stop him, and he snorts.

"Let's eat," he sighs, and I grunt as I turn my attention to the meal.

He opens a tray, and the first course is barbecued shrimp. I frown, but I love these. How dare he serve what I love?

I start to dig into the food ferociously, not minding his gaze on me. But eventually, I get irritated.

"What?" I snap at him.

"Nothing," he shrugs. I narrowed my eyes at his figure.

We continue to eat, and all of a s
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