I’m standing here, heart pounding, as she turns to face the window, her ass pushed back, that thong riding up, showing off everything. She’s got that look, the one that says she’s mine but she’s not. ‘Will you still love me?’ she asks, and I know she’s not just talking about the panties. She’s flirting with the idea, with the guys out there, with the night ahead. And I’m here, watching, waiting, wondering if I can handle it. If I can handle her.