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standing outside my door, probably too nervous to say anything.
“And you can make a dress?”
Two nights later, Noah walked into my room carrying a pile of old jeans.
Mom’s jeans.
He placed them carefully on my bed and asked, “Do you trust me?”
“With this?”
I stared at the jeans, then at him. “What are you talking about?”
“I took sewing last year, remember?continue reading …
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