Strappy, long-sleeves, cap-sleeves—you name it, I’ve rejected it. It’s kind of hard to know what to wear when you don’t know where you’re going or what you’re doing. Finally I decide if I’m going casual on the bottom, I’ll go kind of fancier on top. I slip on a loose white button-down silk shirt, roll up the sleeves a little, and make sure it’s unbuttoned enough to leave only a little to the imagination. Just as I finish up and check my reflection for the hundredth time, I hear a rumbling engine outside. I look out and see a red vintage convertible Corvette pulling up to the curb, with a familiar dark mop of hair in the driver’s seat. A totally pathetic girly thrill makes my stomach flip, and as I hear the engine cut out I stride down the hallway to knock on Max’s door. “Maxi?” I poke my head into the door cautiously, worried since I last got an eyeful of Todd’s bare, hairy ass when the sheets had slipped. “He’s here. Wish me luck,”
