“Look, I’m happy to hang with parents. Parents love me. Well, not the homophobic ones, probably, but in general? I’m a parental love machine.” She stops short, pointing at me. “Not, like, in an I-want-to-hook-up-with-your-parents way, though. God. Yeah, no. First of all, you know I’m not into dads.” I blink. “Hey, I’m kind of obsessed with your brain.”
