Serena was already halfway out of her seat, slinging her bag over her shoulder when she said it.
“I just met this guy. He’s in his mid-twenties. Smart, funny, a little reckless—but in a cute way.”
I blinked. “Wait—mid twenties? Serena… isn’t that ch**d abuse?”
She stopped mid-stride and spun on her heels, her brows shooting up as her mouth dropped open. “Ch**d abuse?! Are you kidding me?! I’m still young, Ryder!”
I leaned back in my chair, lifting my glass with a smirk. “Serena… fear God. How can you call yourself young at your age?”
Her jaw dropped even more. “Excuse me, Grandpa George. You were probably alive when black-and-white TV was still a thing!”
I squinted at her. “Wow.”
“Wow is right,” she said, already storming toward the door. “I’m off, old man. Enjoy your depression dri
