“Clay . . .” She holds a book to her chest and gives me a placating smile. “I may have let my piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend get away with so much because I lack self-confidence and sometimes it was either him or home, and I didn’t want to go home,” she explains. “But it’s not because I’m a moron, so please, I’d rather you not explain at all than insult me with a lie.” My face falls. She pats my arm. “I’m here when you’re ready. See you in the gym.”
