Page 18 of Return Policy

“The cocky part I got, the jock thing…” Her eyes rake over me, and my balls tighten at the attention. “I guess I could see that.”

“You guess?” I throw a hand over my chest to bandage my wounded ego.

“Yeah, I mean, you need some more weight training.” She reaches out and squeezes my bicep, then pulls away. “Fill out a bit more, but I canalmostsee it.”

My mouth is hanging open. Is she fucking serious? I weight train every day. I could bench press two of her and barely break a sweat.

Her serious expression turns into a fit of laughter as she folds over, holding her stomach.

“Oh my God,” she squeals, pretending to wipe tears off her cheeks. “You should see your face.” Her infectious laugh reverberates around me.

“Well, aren’t you just the next Amy Schumer?”

She bows exaggeratedly. “The show starts at eight.”

“I’ll be there.” My eyes linger on hers until she darts them away.

“Guess I was wrong about a few things though.”

“And what would those be?”

“I assumed you weren't the party boy type.” She frowns, narrowing her eyes at me. “But you seemed to be having a pretty good time.”

“Honestly…” I sigh. “I hated every second.”

“I doubt that girl forced you on the dance floor.”

“I just needed a distraction.” I shrug. “Thought she’d be it.”

“A distraction from what?”

You.“Practice, school, the usual.”

“How’d things go with your dad?” Her playful expression turns soft.

“My dad?”

“What was his name again… Mark?”

I take a deep breath and clear my throat. “Oh, yeah… It went really well.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” A gentle smile appears on her face. “Alright…friends.” She sticks out her pinky finger, and I stare at it with furrowed brows.

“Are we pinky promising to be friends? Is that what we’re doing?” I chuckle at her adorable schoolyard antics.

“Yep, it’s the ultimate promise.” She wiggles her cute little finger at me, and I notice a black script tattoo on the inside.

“Fine.” I grin like an idiot, reaching out and hooking my pinky with hers. “Friends.”

That word’s gonna bite me in the ass like a rattlesnake.

“Okay.” She opens her palm upwards. “Give me your phone.” I pull it out of my back pocket, then hand it to her, and her fingers flash across the screen. “Alright,friend, you’ve got my number… in case ofemergencies.” She winks, handing it back to me.

“Hey, Soph, there you are!” the purple-haired girl says, running up to us.

“Here I am.” Sophia opens her arms, palms facing up in front of her.

“You.” The girl narrows her eyes and points a finger at me. “You’re the guy from the grad night party.Ohhh, Sophia wouldn’t shut up about you!”

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