Prologue

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"What makes you think you have a chance?" She asked.

She was gently running her finger around and around the rim of the glass that was sat in front of her. She had a Scotch on the Rocks across from her; she either thought she was looking sophisticated and the opposite of girly or she wanted to drown the night away in the fewest amount of drinks as possible with the least flavorful drink. I swirled the beer in my right hand around and I looked down as soon as she said that, with a smirk on my face. As I looked up I met her eyes and let out a chuckle.

"I don't think I have a chance," I started. "I'm asking you to give me one."

One Chain, Two Wrongs • NeymarWhere stories live. Discover now