Yes

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After Dalton left that night, I stayed upnlate reading the comments. Before long, they became mean and I couldn't handle it. Ugly stranger can't sing. Get away from Dalton; she makes my ears bleed; just leave "ally". There were an abundance of hurtful, heartwrenching comments, and before I knew it, tears slid down my face. That later grew into a hideous sob.
Dalton emerged through the door and sat by my side. "Don't read the comments. There's no point," he comforted. I leaned my head on his shoulder. He took my hand and squeezed it really tight. "It's okay," he whispered. My wailing continued. He let go of my hand and looked at me in the eyes as he said "You're a fantastic singer, beautiful girl, and you don't need to let these people bring you down. Understand?" "Yes," I muttered. "That's right, every time you feel sad, say yes. Yes, I'm beautiful. Yes, I'm talented. Yes, yes, yes," he continued. "Yes, you're very beautiful, Dalton," I snickered. He laughed too. I hugged him again and then cleaned the running mascara from my face.
"You're even nicer than I thought," I told him. He smiled, but not the same way he's smiled before. This was different. Deeper, more meaningful. "I like you, Dalton," I told him, "like like-like you more than a friend. And not just in a fan way." "I like you too," he answered, "like-like." He hugged me and we stayed in each others arms for about ten minutes.

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