“You may be all independent and fearless enough to hang out with homeless men, but you’re still a shit liar,” he says, calling me out. I try to keep the mood light. “Hey, don’t go talking about Joe. He’s my friend.” I stick my tongue out at Hardin as we pass a couple making out on a bench. Loud enough for them to hear, Hardin says, “Five bucks says he has his hand up her skirt in less than two minutes.” I playfully shove at his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around my waist. “Don’t get too touchy—Joe will ask questions!” I wiggle my brows at Hardin, and he bursts into laughter. “What is it with
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Good job
