“You taking some cheerleader out on a date? All romantic and shit?” “She’s not a cheerleader. And her name is Lacey.” “The slut who was giving you a blowie last night? Fuck, little bro. You don’t take those girls out on picnics. You just get what’s between their legs and move on to the next one.” Before I knew it, I was dragging Augie off his stool and had him pinned to the kitchen cupboards. My fingers balled into fists in his shirt. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that. She’s no slut.” Augie raised one eyebrow, then shoved me away hard. “Who is this chick? Her pussy made of gold?”
