“She’s coming to the game tonight.” “O-kay.” She comes to most home games to support her brother. “You want me to check on her? Where’s she sitting? Usual spot?” He sighs, acting all annoyed because I can’t read minds and didn’t correctly guess whatever the hell he’s trying to tell me. “She brought her roommates.” The S at the end of the last word hangs in the air while my brain connects the dots. Roommates. More than one. Roommatesssss. Plural. Both of them. My heart skitters to a stop. Hell yeah. Bridget is here.
