conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Sydney, Becky, Tyler with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Literature & Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'manicpixiedreamgirl'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: manicpixiedreamgirl
  Robby's eyes widen as I push myself off the table and cross my arms. "I'm going to read it to her," I say.
  Robby holds up his hands. "No, no! It's what you're good at. I bet no one else ever wrote a story about her that got published in a magazine, right?"
  I laugh, but not because I'm amused. This is news to me. I feel like I'm looking into a mirror, for the first time seeing myself the way my friends see me.
  Robby stares at me a moment longer before pulling my keys out from his pocket. He regards me suspiciously. "You sure you're okay to drive?"
  He flings me the keys. "Yeah, me either." He jerks suddenly, as if he's going to jump me; I twitch into a defensive position. Robby grins.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Becky lifts her shirt up and over her head, tossing it toward her shoes. Her hands reach behind her back to undo her black bra. She wriggles out of it and drops it to the floor.
  Mechanically, I slide off the bed to one side and pull my shirt off. I step on the heels of my shoes and step out of them. Seeing this, Becky continues to undress in front of me, pulling her jeans down, kicking them into a denim puddle at her feet.
  I follow her lead, taking my jeans off. I stop, thumbs hooked into the waistband of my boxers, when she slides her underwear down.
  My hands quake at my hips, and tremors vibrate my legs. My breath comes out in tiny, silent gasps. I pull my boxers off as Becky climbs back onto her bed and rolls to one side, opening the drawer in her night table. She pulls out a bottle, squirts something into her hand—
  I get on the mattress, on top of the same floral comforter she had the first time I was here. She rolls over again, now on her back, and scoots up a bit, a pillow under her head.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last paragraph.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I pull on sweatpants and climb shirtless under a single sheet. My head feels like it's the size and weight of the complete works of Shakespeare, heavy and angular, pulling me deep into the pillow.