We’ve been best friends since the age of five, growing up together and battling our way through social awkwardness and our love for books. We spent our days in Temecula—the town we grew up in—walking to the nearest Alberto’s, ordering the California burrito and splitting it in threes, rotating with who had to deal with the middle. We took it back to Dottie’s house where we would chow down and hold book club meetings.

Nothing was better than that.

And then we entered high school and Neil Langston came into my life. Fresh from Napa, his parents moved to Temecula to start a wine label. He was handsome, kind, and thought I was the most beautiful thing that ever walked the planet. We dated for six years and in those six years, I started to drift away from Dottie and Lindsay and became wrapped up in my boyfriend. They went to Brentwood after we graduated, and I stayed close to home to be with Neil, who was gearing up to be a part of the family business.

It wasn’t until a few months ago that I realized he wasn’t only interested in the family business, but his dad’s assistant as well. I’ll spare you the details of the compromising position I found them in, but I will tell you this . . . I lost my mind in that moment.

Yup, I snapped.

Everything turned black, and before I knew what I was doing, I walked right up to bare-ass Neil, who was balls deep in said assistant, doggy style—okay, so I guess I am giving you the details—and I smacked his nuts.

Exactly, you read that right.

I bitch-slapped his nuts so hard—twice—thwack, thwack. I made him yelp like a chihuahua who just had his tail stepped on.

And when I stepped back to watch them dangle and sway in pain, I snapped one last time, stepped back up and plowed my fist into them—kapow!

Knuckles to balls.

Fist to family jewels.

It was a snappy jab with a forceful blinding rage behind the drive, giving me enough momentum to almost shove them into his intestines.

I can still hear the strangled sound that came from his mouth right before he fell to the side, erect penis pointing to the ceiling, hands gripping his precious junk. The assistant—don’t know her name, don’t care—scrambled to the headboard, sheets pulled up to her chest as she screeched bloody murder, most likely afraid I was coming for her knockers next.

She, who most definitely knew about Neil and me—why do women do that to another woman?—didn’t deserve my attention, but man, would I have deflated those puppies real quick.

Thwack. Thwack.

Instead, I hovered over Neil, pointed at him, and said, “Your penis has always been borderline too small, but I dealt with it because I loved you. Now, I’m happy to say I no longer have to wonder if you’re in me or not.” I saluted the assistant and said, “I’m sure you know this, but when he comes, he has to beat his leg up and down like an excited puppy. It’s revolting.”

After that, I packed everything up, gave my parents a kiss on the cheek, and made my way to the Midwest, just outside Chicago, where I reunited with my best friends, and now share a three-person dorm room. I’m getting my life back together.

Well, for the most part.

Passing out with my boob in a stranger’s hand might have been a mild setback.

“Are we watching Big Brother?” Dottie asks when I take a seat on the stiff couch the dorm room provided.

“Is that even a question?” I ask while grabbing some peanut chicken and putting it on a plastic plate that’s seen better days. I’m not going to complain though, because Dottie and Lindsay welcomed me back into their lives without blinking an eye, so whatever they have for household items, I’m good with. “Juno is such an asshole.”

“No one likes Juno,” Lindsay says, around a mouthful of veggies. “But . . . I kind of love him.”

“What?” Dottie and I yell together.

“What is wrong with you?” I ask. “You can’t love him.”

“I love to hate him, is that better?”

“Much,” I say, taking a big bite from my plate.

“So . . .” Dottie says, with a huge smile on her face. “Saw you on campus today.”

“Yeah?” I ask. “Why didn’t you say hi?”

“You seemed quite busy.” Dottie and Lindsay exchange smiles.

Oh crap.

“Just say it.” I sigh while tucking my legs under my butt. I know the look that was just exchanged between my two friends. I’m about to be put through the wringer.

“You were talking with Knox Gentry.” She squeals. “Do you even know who he is? Did you meet him at the baseball loft? Did you give him your phone number?”

See . . . wringer.

“I didn’t know who he was, but I know who he is now. I sort of met him at the baseball loft, but he actually caught my campus map . . . in the face, and handed it back to me. He recognized me from the party.” I’m not going into detail how he recognized me—I never forget a good pair of tits—because it’s not necessary to let people know about my boob being a self-soothing sleep contributor to drunk men. “And no, I didn’t give him my number. We are in a class together, and he might have asked me to lunch, but I told him I had to read.”

“What?” Dottie nearly explodes out of her seat. “Why on earth would you do that?”

I casually shrug, keeping my eyes trained on the peanut chicken in front of me. “I just got out of a serious relationship where my boyfriend of six years was cheating on me. Not quite ready to jump back into the dating game.”