Since a certain class had wound up being messier than Amy had anticipated, she was left with wet hair in the middle of the afternoon due to the need for a spontaneous midday shower. So no, this Texan wouldn't be going back outside in the cold today
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"Freaking cold outside," he grumbled, not unused to the cold but totally willing to complain about it. "Afternoon. How's television today? Engaging or ultimate brain cell killer?"
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"It's not bad," she offered, scooting over to make room on the couch in case he wanted to sit. "It's a documentary about writers whose lives are even more messed up than the stuff they write about. Kind of predictable, but it's pretty interesting. I'm learning a lot about Ann M. Martin."
Although then again, Amy was a documentary geek. "But you can change it if you want," she added.
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"Better than what I typically find on these televisions. Inevitably, I get religious shows that preach and talk and talk and preach and I just tune out or fall asleep."
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"That sounds more like what I'd find on TV at home," Amy said. "Except it would be because my stepdad DVR'd it and wanted us all to watch it together. I promise this is more entertaining so far."
For one thing, it was more than just one sweaty guy in a polo talking.
"I haven't met you yet, have I?" She'd encountered a lot of new faces over the past week. "I'm Amy."
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