Anthony raised his red plastic cup to me and shouted something, but it was too hard to hear over the music. “What?” I called back. “You look great!” A goofy smile was plastered on his face. “Oh boy,” Vee said. “Not just a pimp, but a smashed pimp.” “So maybe he’s a little drunk.” “Drunk and hoping to corner you alone in a bedroom upstairs.” Ugh.
Becca FitzpatrickBefore I could stop myself, I punched his arm. “Careful,” he said in a low voice. “They might think we’re flirting.
Becca FitzpatrickBut if the choice I have to make comes down to you or me, I choose you. I always have. All my love, Patch
Becca FitzpatrickYou’ve never been to school, ever? If that’s true— and you’re right, I don’t think it is—what made you decide to come this year?” “You....Your eyes, Nora. Those cold, pale gray eyes are surprisingly irresistible.” He tipped his head sideways, as if to study me from a new angle. “And that killer curvy mouth
Becca FitzpatrickThis is crazy," I told Patch in an undertone. "I'm crazy." He was on the brink of smiling again. "About you.
Becca FitzpatrickI could get you to smile like that, and without sales tax." I whirled around to find the real Patch standing in the fitting room behind me. He was wearing jeans and a snug white tee. His arms were folded loosely over his chest, and his black eyes smiled down at me. Heat that wasn't entirely uncomfortable flushed through my body. "I could make all kinds of pervert jokes right now," I quipped.
Becca Fitzpatrick