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Can’t Get Away

Bailey

Hahnville is in the rearview mirror, literally.

I blow out a sigh of relief as the last exit sign for the town fades into the distance behind us. The bustle and lights of NOLA beckon, and I let myself relax more with every mile we cover. A shadow has plagued us the last few weeks. I can’t deny that any longer, just as I can’t deny that I can feel its noxious grip on me loosen as we put more distance between us and the marsh.

“I can’t wait to show you the club,” I gush. “The DJ tonight is supposed to be great. I plan on dancing the night away!”

My enthusiasm is contagious, and Tanner stands no chance against it. “Oh?” he asks, smirking playfully. “What kind of dancing can I expect tonight? Grinding? Twerking?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and I giggle.

“The funky chicken,” I reply in the driest tone I can muster.

Tanner lets out a booming laugh, and I quickly join him. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize that I haven’t heard him let loose like that in quite some
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