7
CHARLIE
“You didn’t,” my BFF, Keely, shouted into my ear through the phone.
“I did.”
“OMG.”
“I know. I wanted to die,” I admitted, telling her all about how Levi had overheard me getting off in the shower. “I mean, he knows.” It felt good to have something fun to tell her. I’d been keeping in my problems with Dax because it was too ugly to drag into the light.
I stood up from my bed, unbuttoned my jeans. I was so full from the cinnamon roll, my pants were too tight. If I ate like that every morning I was here, nothing was going to fit.
I’d sent Keely a nine-one-one text first thing this morning, telling her I needed to talk. After tossing and turning all night, I’d texted and said to bring wine and lots of it to our phone call, even at five-thirty in the morning.
Along with Mr. C
