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.

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