“Oh my gosh, Maryanne will fuck you up and eat you for breakfast if she ever hears you refer to her as old.” “She’s twenty-eight. That’s nearly thirty.” I shrug, just to be petulant. “That’s kind of old.” “I’m twenty-eight,” Sam tells me. “Then you’re kind of old…” I bat my eyes playfully, then lean over to him and say quietly, “Please don’t fuck me up and eat me for breakfast.” “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” He grins.
