“Tessa doesn’t know you’re gay,” I blurt as she shows me a black beaded dress. She looks at me smoothly and just sweeps her hand across the dress again, kind of like she did with the brandy bottle last night. “I’m not giving you fashion advice here, so stop trying,” I groan. She rolls her eyes. “So why didn’t you tell her?” I poke at this feather necklace thing. “I don’t know, I didn’t think about it.” “Well, I’m oh-so-flattered that my orientation was so unnnotable to you,” she says with feigned gratitude and a spread hand at her neck. “But you really should tell her.” She smiles. “No wonder
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You fucking suck so much
