“Oh? Who are you banging on the regular this school year, then?” “No one.” Her eyebrows shoot up. “Truly?” I pick at my burger. Fucking tomatoes. “Yep.” “But why? You’re…you, and everyone wants to be a bleacher girl—or so I’ve heard.” I push my food away. “Saving myself.” “For marriage? Waiting till you’re a middle-aged has-been who peaked in high school?” She chuckles. “No.” “Ah, I get it. Some lucky girl under the bleachers at the first game of senior year. Sweet. Good plan. Typical top Shark behavior. Anticipation…then wham bam, thank you ma’am! Drawing it out.” A slow blush crawls up from
...more
