My most noticeable physical trait is, hands down, my hair. It's big, unruly and curly, and you can spot it from a mile away... literally.
Becca FitzpatrickI couldn't picture myself with a boyfriend, but if I had to, I envisioned a nice normal guy who turned in his math homework on time and maybe even played rec baseball.
Becca FitzpatrickPatch's eyes were slate black, darker than a million secrets stacked on top of each other. He dropped his gaze to the ring in his hand, turning it over slowly. "Swear you'll never stop loving me," I whispered. Ever so slightly, he nodded.
Becca FitzpatrickAnthony raised his red plastic cup to me and shouted something, but it was too hard to hear over the music. โWhat?โ I called back. โYou look great!โ A goofy smile was plastered on his face. โOh boy,โ Vee said. โNot just a pimp, but a smashed pimp.โ โSo maybe heโs a little drunk.โ โDrunk and hoping to corner you alone in a bedroom upstairs.โ Ugh.
Becca FitzpatrickI gave a relenting sigh. "Fine! I'll throw on some clothes. Turn around. I'm in my pj's." Pj's that consisted of nothing but a tank top and boy shorts--an image I didn't want to sear into Scott's mind. Scott smiled. "I'm a guy. That's like asking a kid not to glance at the candy counter." Ugh. The dimple in his cheek deepened. And it was not in any way cute... pg 196
Becca Fitzpatrick