Three years ago, when the quirky showstopper with purple hair appeared at my bedroom door, trying to contribute to a pitch jar, I sucked in a breath I’ve been holding ever since. I’ve held on to Lennox like a troll does its treasure. I keep her close however I can. For us, that means friendship. It’s not like I’m not torturously tempted to yank her long hair back, tear her eccentric little outfits off, and bend her naked body over whatever surface she’d let me. I’d show her what all these clowns she dates are lacking. But Lennox has something I’ve never encountered before. She’s genuine. Full
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