She shrugged. Her finger ran a circuit around the glass's rim. Round and round and round ... I was in high school again, talking to a girl I liked, who maybe liked me, and dammit if it wasn't making my innards turn into a mess of warm putty. Dammit if I was too lost in gin and tonics to focus on anything but how awful this was and how she needed to stop this now before I couldn't.
