It’s Saturday morning and I’m sitting on the cement steps of the courtyard with Liam and some especially clingy women when a fuming blonde tornado comes tearing up to me. “What the hell is this!” she seethes as she throws a crumpled up piece of paper at my head. I don’t flinch, allowing it to hit me and roll to the floor. I don’t need to look to know what it is. “Looks like a note,” I draw out casually.
