Before I even knew it, I was walking toward her, drawn like a moth to a flame. Or a moth to a bug zapper if I couldn’t get her to take a chance on me. ’Cause that rejection would kill, slow and painful. When I got closer, the scene unfolding on the couch also hit me in the empty stomach and resentful taste buds. There she sat with O, thick as fuckin’ thieves. Thieves who were eating the cupcakes we were supposed to share. “You gave her my halves,” I accused, fighting a smile.
