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Amanda Lehan-Canto is a struggling florist in the big city of Los Angeles. One day, a flustered, vaguely-familiar woman barges into her shop and demands a "Fuck-You" Bouquet, and slams $60 down in front of her.
She says, "yes, of course", and makes it. However, she's completely unaware of the fact that this woman is a world-class actress, and is about to make her realise a couple of things about herself. Such as, the fact she likes women. Always has. Always will.
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"I told you," Chanse muttered into his palms, his voice a gravelly baritone of pure exhaustion. "I literally said, 'Angela, if you put those skates on, you are signing a waiver with God.' Did you listen? No. Because Arasha offered you twenty dollars and a half-eaten burrito."
"It was a whole burrito from Guisados, Chanse. Let’s keep the facts straight," Angela hissed, though the bravado was severely undercut by the way her teeth chattered as a fresh wave of throbbing pain shot up her radius. "And the backflip was conceptually sound. It was the execution that lacked… something."
or Angela took a dare from Arasha, got a broken wrist and met the love of her life.