“That’s a full two inches above my contractual limit. And I still did it. No hand cramp. Solo mission. Praise be.”
Still nothing.
“And now? My heart’s fuckin’ around on me—that lyin’ bitch. No joke—my stupid heart cheated and caught STFs.
“Sexually transmitted feelings.”
I point to myself, pushing out a laugh.
“Me. Allison Taylor.
“Which gives me six and a half reasons to be freakin' the fuck out right now.”
She stares, still dead in the eyes.
None of it penetrated her Drake-fucked brain.
I clap in her face.
“Nope. Uh-uh. Snap outta it, bro. You don’t get to check out right now. I been sittin' on this one for a month while you been too busy cryin' over Drake’s ass.”
Because if I don’t finally talk about Andrew,
I’ll scream.
“I amowed, Celie. You had your turn.”
Her mascara-streaked raccoon eyes blink at me.
I slap my hand on her kitchen counter.
“I need a turn, Celie!
“I came here for a fuckin’ turn.
“I’m cashin’ in.
“Hundred degree spiral.
“Saw him last night.
“This needs immediate attention.”
Her lip wobbles.
I squint at her.
Her nose twitches.
I take a cautious step back.
Her face scrunches.
Oh, God, it’s happening.
She’s going to cry again.
The glossy-eyed, quivering-lipped,
