I stared longingly into the swirling pink chill of my cosmopolitan. "He's got to be. I gained four pounds last week and he's not the type of guy that stays with a girl who gains four pounds in one week."
"Is this like back when Tammy Oreman started calling you names after you wore those pink hot pants during your presentation on transcendentalists in English Lit?"
A chill went down my spine. Tammy was sleeping with half of the football team at the time, and recently I'd heard that she'd moved to DC and gone on to be a high powered attorney. Two guesses on how she got partnership. "I don't even remember what she called me," I winced, almost forming a question sound on the "me" because my voice cracked.
At that his eyes darted over my face as he sharply took a sip of his vodka martini. Then Tom smiled demonically and I could almost feel the red hot horns growing from his temples. "Hmm, as I remember it had something to do with your last name..."
"Carly Big Hams," I let slip, barely realizing I'd said anything.
"I told you not to wear those hot pants."
At that I smiled. "I seem to remember Tammy got a nickname after that. Someone started calling her Tammy Whoreman."
Tom feigned rubbing his fingernails over his vintage paisley shirt. "Not one of the best nicknames I could have done, but someone had to tell that girl where to shove it."
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