“No. Absolutely not. You’re not staking a claim on me or whatever it is you’re trying to do. Go get me one of Cam’s.” Yeah, that’s not happening. “It’s that or the bra, and you may be ballsy, but you’re not the type for self-humiliation.” She gives me a look that rivals the one she had in surf shop. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” “Yep,” I answer. “And I’m glad you’ve figured that out. Now, hate me all you want, but take off his fucking jersey.” There’s no chance for her to argue it further as I walk away and get back on the ice. And when I glance over at her again, she may be pissed off,
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