Shortcake
Freddy didn’t look like she’d had more than one drink the night before, while Gemma’s head felt like it was about to explode.
“Want to go for a jog with me?” Freddy asked, cheerful as ever.
Gemma stared at her in mock horror. “Excuse me? Me—go jogging?” She grinned and held up one leg. “Um, my leg. I don’t run. And if I do, you’d better run faster, because something is chasing me. With those legs,”—she pointed at Freddy’s—“you’d leave me in the dust.”
Freddy laughed. “If there’s a zombie outbreak, you think I’m tripping you?”
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