“Wait, you’re actually wearing his jersey?” Amanda scoffs. “I thought he was kidding…” I face her. I don’t know why her jealousy is getting on my nerves—except maybe I’m having fucking flashbacks to her throwing herself at him at the party. He picked me, though. Instinct says he’d pick me again, because at least I’m interesting. “His jersey, his cum…” I shrug. “Bet you got neither when he fucked you, right?”
