She entered through the front door, smirked as soon as she clocked the bottles of wine I’d nicked from her father’s store earlier on in the day
Outrageously wrong but, in fairness, I’d come clean in the very beginning, and now all we had to do was sit back and relax, enjoy the fruits of my ‘labour’
So long as she did me just one favour, held onto her brand new mean-streak, didn’t, ahem, bottle it, speak to the wrong kinds of people
Please God she didn’t turn out to be some sort of “up as quick as your down Bipolar freak”