One night, no names, no kissing had seemed like a good idea until I got a big, fat plus sign on a pregnancy test, and I have no idea who my baby daddy is.
I wear my emotions on my tattoo-covered sleeve, I say all the wrong things and I revel in pissing off a certain redhead far more than I should. In other words, I’m the last …
While I’m not clear on where one gets an official copy of the girl code, it seems like “thou shall not covet thy bestie’s hot dad” would be pretty high on that list.
