Plus One
She steps in front of me, her index finger pointed at me.
I furrow my brows, my mouth falling open.
"What does that mean?"
"You can't do casual sex, Rae. You've had sex with two people. Jacob, who you almost married, and then three months later you hooked up with that sexy basketball player in the bathroom at Club Voodoo. Which then turned into you staying in your pajamas crying into a bowl of ice cream while watching re-runs because you felt like a whore," she rambles about, flinging through the rack of clothes.