When I get married, I hope my husband and I will be so close that I’ll be as comfortable squeezing his pimples as popping my own. Is that, like, too gross to be a romantic goal?

Anyway, I go, “I’ll tell your bride that her groom awaits.” And guess what Mack does. He absolutely, beyond a doubt, I swear on my life, totally blushes! Like, red!

I can’t imagine anything on earth making Danny blush. That boy would moon the Pope without batting an eye. Name it, Danny would be game. That’s exactly what I like and what I totally despise about him!

That’s probably why he cheated. He probably gave it, like, zero thought. Just, “Free answers? Cool!” Would he for, like, half a second think about whether it was right or wrong? Forget about it. Not Bozo-the-Brave.

It makes him, like, fun and wacky. But who can trust a guy like that? A guy who lies on a test—a guy who thinks he’s got, like, the right to an A that he didn’t earn. You can never know what else he’ll, like, feel comfy lying about. Or, like, how many girlfriends he’ll feel entitled to at, like, the exact same time. Am I right?

How did we get back here?

I hate that. I started out talking about Mack, like, blushing or whatever—and blink! Next thing I knew, Danny had wiggled his sneaky self back into my, like, brain! That’s so unfair!

It should be up to a person to decide what they’re going to think about—and when they’re going to think it. Otherwise it’s like getting totally tricked by your own mind! Ooh, how sci-fi! How, like, out there!

I try to shake it out, like a muscle cramp, and I go upstairs. I’m all, like, yelling, “Groom downstairs!” into the steamed-up bathroom.

Then I go to my room and, like, begin.

I don’t just “get dressed.” Today I’m all extra super careful. From, like, curls to pedicure. A girl with a mission: I’m not leaving this room until I’m the absolute knockout million-dollar best I can be.

Part of me thinks Danny’ll, like, show up on his knees, all begging me to forgive him. I don’t know whether I will or not, but I sure want to look gorgeous while I take my sweet time and, like, decide.

Every time the phone rings, I expect Mom to go, “Ruby! It’s Danny!” But she hasn’t yet.

Never mind. The important thing is that I’m, like, having a good hair day and my dress is to die for and my soggy eyes are definitely looking more human as the morning goes on. Amen.

Sarah