“You can when they dramatically rip their helmets off and drink their water.” She shakes her long blonde hair in the wind. “Hot.” “Sweaty mullets are not hot,” I say as I unlock my car. “Sweaty Leo is hot,” she challenges. “Thank God he doesn’t have a mullet. That would be a crime.” I try my best to ignore her as I turn my key in the ignition. “You think sweaty Leo is hot. Don’t deny it.” “I think Leo is hot,” I agree as I pull out of the parking lot. “She admits it!” She beams. “Dude,” I grumble. “You’ve seen him. I’m not a liar.” “I think he’s the only straight man who’s ever photographed
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