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Gigi had barely been in my house for five minutes when she started acting like she had just walked into a palace. She gasped at everything—the chandelier, the velvet curtains, even the doorknobs.
"Boy, this place looks like it belongs on Rich Kids of Beverly Hills," she exclaimed, spinning around with her arms spread wide as if trying to take it all in. "Do some people just... wake up rich?"
I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, flipping through my notes, and couldn't help but laugh.
She gave me a look that clearly said she wasn't impressed. "You even have a walk-in closet and a balcony!"
After about an hour of her exploring every corner, she finally plopped down next to me on the bed, tucking her legs under her. I filled her in on everything—the library, Ethan's confession, how I almost bailed on the carnival, and how he convinced me to go anyway. Gigi listened, wide-eyed, spooning ice cream straight from the tub we'd snuck in.
