4.1

She swung her arms out to the side, one of her splints catching me on the shoulder and nearly knocking me down. Her voice came out at a decibel equal to a rocket taking off in Florida. “It’s always about the boobs!”

Heads swiveled and I was done. I pushed the cart out of the store, studiously ignoring her like I wasn’t with the crazy lady shouting about boobs. She would catch up eventually. Probably.

The only mercy was that in all the conversation throughout the store, I hadn’t told Mom about Chad. Or the fact that I’d actually texted him last night in a moment of weakness. Ashley had been hounding me all afternoon to text him just to see what would happen. At twenty-eight, you’d think peer pressure wouldn’t be a thing anymore, but I was alive and well to tell you that it is. And it got me. I texted Chad and he’d texted me back and now the ball was in my court. Me and sports didn’t get along, so I knew nothing about what to do with this flirt ball or where my court even was. And also,