“Who’s it gonna be: Mr Courtroom/Boardroom or Mr Sinful Smirk?”

The next morning, I woke up with a croaky voice, glitter on my eyebrows, and half a fried snail in my purse. Classic girls’ night. My phone was buzzing like someone owed it money. Zara had already sent 16 photos and one boomerang from the night before, tagging everyone and adding her signature caption: “Sinners

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