Then her eyes brightened. “Wait, I’m back out super early in the morning and I’m wearing my clothes from last night—is this a walk of shame? Am I doing my first walk of shame?” She looked up and down the sidewalk like she expected a banner to unfurl in congratulations. “It doesn’t usually work that way. Usually, you’re walking home by yourself, and it’s not after just sleeping.” I stuck my hands into my pockets. She shoved her hands into hers. Her lips thinned and the mental calculation Olympics were going on in her head. “Then we’re doing a double walk of shame.” She looped her arm through
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