“We can have a good time all by ourselves, thanks,” she snarls viciously. “Get going now.”
The back window rolls down. “How much?” one of the shithead friends asks. He dangles a wad ofcash in our direction and waggles his eyebrows like he’s f*****g Santa Claus.
My cheeks flare with anger.
“We’re not f*****g hookers, you assholes,” I spit. “And even if we were, we’d have standards. Getthe hell away from us.”
The driver’s face falls for a moment. Then it twists into that mask of male anger I know all too well.
“f**k you, w***e!” he yells.
The tires squeal as he speeds off down the road. He leaves a middle finger hanging out of the windowfor our viewing pleasure.
“Boys,” I hiss in disgust. “They’re just stupid f*****g boys.”
“Indeed. And they’re all the same. Which, to segue back to o
