I wish we’d never met up last fall. I wish you’d never flirted with me. I wish I’d never fucked you that first time in the library. I hate you—” “Same page. Same fucking page, Charisma.” And then he’s walking away, broad shoulders swaying as he stalks down the aisle, straight to where Dani is—staring at the lipstick counter. All hail the beauty queen. Seriously, she was crowned Miss Waylon her sophomore year.
