Skid Roche

It’s not like Dakota really expected anything to happen when she followed the punk chick into the bathroom. Sure, they’d been flirting all night — without either of them saying a word or coming within ten feet of each other, their courtship a mix of eye contact and body language through the surging, dancing crowd of punks. But Dakota never thought she’d do anything like what she did — was only vaguely aware things like that happened at all. And Dakota was quite sure that she wasn’t that sort of girl. God, how she wanted to be, but she just couldn’t manage it.

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