Promises Are Made To Be Broken
“One: you’re a drunk. Two: you stole my phone. Three: you’re a sleaze-ball just like your buddy Paul.”
“Nice list, Becca,” Jameson said, “but could you get to a point sometime soon. I have a terrible headache.”
“Those are the reasons I would never go out with you.”
“One: I’m not Paul, nor am I a sleaze-ball,” he answered in an annoyingly rational tone. “Two: I didn’t realize I took your phone until now. I was kind of in the state, if you know what I mean. Three: I only hit the Tequila after you played darts with my soul.”
Becca was so annoyed that she didn’t realize he had a valid point. She’d gone from within inches of kissing him to erecting a monstrous chasm between him and herself without any explanation.
If he’s anything like his friend, she thought to herself. He doesn’t deserve any explanation.
A chilling thought. But what if he’s not like his friend?
There was only one way to find out. “Okay, I’ll go out with you once, but Sassy cannot find out about it. Promise.”