
My childhood friend Flynn Carter is the college's ice hockey star and heartthrob, with a secret: he's "allergic" to women. Rumors about him keep spreading, yet no one knows what this cold, unapproachable god is like once he comes home. One evening, I walk in to find him holding my freshly washed bra, a crease between his brows as he asks, "Why do you even have pink ones?"






















