“Alright, how long of a ride is this?” Melissa asks me, the next Saturday as we all load up our instruments onto the truck. “It is about an hour...and a half ride, why got a hot date?” I ask nudging her playfully. She just rolls her eyes at me as we get onto our bus. I put my bag down in the seat with all the others. I go to sit across from that seat, but Becca grabs my wrist. “Sit across from us.” She smiles. I shrug and I sit down in the seat across the aisle from Becca and Cassandra. We get. "Just remember, dear," I said, "if you're ever feeling insecure: I'm no dummy, and I think you're the greatest thing since blueberry pancakes." Thanks, but knowing you're actually an intelligent guy doesn't really reassure me. It makes me worry that at some point you'll wise up and realize I'm just a good piece of ass. You really should be with Sheila. She's got a brain in her head. She's got personality she doesn't have to substitute with tits and ass." Don't talk silly, Charlotte. I adore. More

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