“No, I—it’s Tom England.” I shrug. “I get it. You’ve always had a thing for him—” “Not a real thing,” she clarifies unhelpfully. “Look, if he wasn’t poaching you from me, I’d probably try to shag him too,” I say, forcing myself to laugh because I don’t know what else to do. “So you’re picking him?” I say that like it’s not the end of the world.
Bjjj
