“Order for Jenkins,” he says, and the girl looks up, her eyes widening when she takes in my brother standing above her. His smile broadens, his lashes fluttering as if he’s the one with a seizure disorder, and he begins to tap his fingers against the counter. “Do you need my number for confirmation of the order? Because I can give it to a pretty thing like you.” Oh gag me.
🤣🤣🤣
