Betting on You

by Lynn Painter

stressing over whether or not my braces were going to set off the metal detector,

REAL

“You can keep your highbrow lit,” she’d said, raising her chin in that defending-my-stance way she had. “I prefer lighter reading.” And by “prefer lighter reading,” she meant that she read five or six romance novels. A week.

Charlie was wearing pink flannel pajama pants that had red hearts all over them. The pattern might’ve been a little unorthodox for men’s pj’s, but it was the fact that he was six and a half feet tall and they were at least four inches too short for him that made it quite the look. “They were a gift from my little sister,” he said, pointing a finger at me. “So if you mock them, you’re a monster.” “Not mocking,” I said, trying my hardest not to laugh while also finding it really freaking sweet that he wore pants his sister gave him. “They’re actually incredibly sexy. Shows just enough ankle to tease yet stay classy.” “Oh, I know.” He put his hands on his

AHHHHH I LOVE