“If you would have at least let Erik give me his phone number, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You were really freaking rude to him.” “He was wearing a yellow sweatshirt!” I hardly manage to keep the disdain out of my voice. She stares blankly. “So?” “So? So! You can’t trust anyone wearing a yellow sweatshirt.” Her brows rise and she points to my yellow sweatshirt. “You’re wearing a yellow sweatshirt.” “Thank you! I just proved my point.” I flick an imaginary piece of lint off my hoodie. “Besides, Erik had small hands.” No reaction? Fine. I prompt her, “Small hands? Small…” “Dick.”
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