Whatever self-control I had snaps and I kick him in the balls so hard he keels over and Storm mutters ouch under his breath. That doesn’t give me the vindication I was seeking, though, so I grab the large pitcher of soda resting on the table and pour it over his head. This way when he goes on stage, he’ll feel foolish and humiliated…just like I do right now. “I hate you.”
Good girl
