But instead of explaining, the only thing Randy wanted to do was go home, pour a strong drink and blast some music. It always helped him drown away his troubles. And tequila seemed like a really good way to help him do that. With his hands shoved into his pockets, he looked down at his shoes and let out a sigh. "You lied to me."
"I know--"
"No, Sav. You lied. To me." He put his hand on his chest, "Me! Of all people. I shrug off the notes written on the bathroom walls about calling you for a good time. I've been fighting with the guys at school who sit around and say how easy you are. I tell them to shut their mouths because they don't know you like I know you. They couldn't know you the way I do because if they did, they wouldn't be able to say any of that shit." He hesitated for a secon
