‘ sssweet mary mother of --- ’ he doesn’t recall tensing like this, palms pressed flat to the countertop and face scrunched up like he’s just sucked on a lemon. alas!, here he is, acting a fool on edibles and too much whiskey. chris points an accusatory finger in what he thinks is summer’s direction and very nearly knocks a newly empty shot glass to the floor. ‘ --- god, girl. how are you still standing? ’

         “Your boyfriend’s a prick,” he says, matter-of-fact. “No denying he’s softer with you, but I’ve done my investigating, Summer, and he’s a prick.”