Shana~
Friday lunch and Stephen looks at me over his glass of iced tea, his gaze narrowing as he assesses what he sees. “Take a step back," he says. “I like you better all giddy and sexed up than bitchy and mean-spirited."
I toss my plastic fork into the plastic bowl filled with a green leafy salad that I've barely touched and stare at the man who is supposed to be my best friend. “First off, I'm not bitchy."
“Right."
“I'm not. I'm not bitchy." I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest, and assess the people walking by. Our small bistro table isn't anything special. It isn't like we're in Paris or Rome. Stephen and I are simply at a small round table on the sidewalk outside a local deli hidden down a less-traveled street.
“I know," Stephen says, “this attitude of yours is because
