Page 50 of How to Win the Girl
I want receipts!
Drew:Well, he told me you were sweet, so.
Daisy:LOL, if your brother told you I was sweet, he was lying.
Daisy:Question.
Drew:Go.
Daisy:How are people able to tell you apart?
Drew:Clothes usually?What was Drake wearing?
Daisy:I don’t know—a tee shirt?
Drew:What kind of tee shirt?
Daisy:HOW SHOULD I KNOW? A sporty one? I wasn’t paying attention.
A sporty one?
She wasn’t paying attention?
“EVERYONE PAYS ATTENTION!” I shout to no one in particular, my indignant outrage echoing through the concrete jungle of a weight room.
Collins props his hands on his hips, hovering, not giving up on me spotting his dead lifts.
Dude, move on! My furrowed brow tells him.
Drew:LOL, it probably had his football number on it.
Daisy:Oh. That would make sense…
Drew:Yeah, when you know, you know, right?
Drew:Usually, once people get to know us, they can tell us apart. I have a birthmark near my eye, and Drake doesn’t.
Daisy:Ahhh.
Drew:I’m also 2 inches taller
That’s a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that, and I have no idea why I said it other than to brag.
“Dude, who are you messaging? I need you to spot me,” Collins whines, stepping into my space and blocking the light above us.
Nosy bastard.
“My sister.”
Another lie, my second one in a matter ofseconds.
“You have a sister?”
He and I both know there is no Colter sister in existence, unless our father had a daughter out of wedlock we don’t know about, which—oddly enough is a possibility.
“Yeah.”
“You fucking liar.” He laughs.
