“Then who the fuck is this crutch-stealing fleabag?” “He’s Rowan,” Sloane says, gesturing at me again. Rose narrows her eyes as though this is insufficient information. “He’s my f-fr…boy. Guy. A man-guy. I’m…with. Here.” I snort a laugh as Rose’s face scrunches. “Man-guy,” I echo. “Real smooth, Blackbird.”
Man-guy 🤩🤩🤩
