Whoa, who peed in your Cheerios?

I'm a private contractor now. I choose my clients, not the other way around.

I couldn't stand here, hanging on, when the very thing I held disappeared more with each passing day.

I tended to be more a romantic than a realist, and chose blind faith over cold logic.

Maybe Scotty the Potty turned into Scotty the Hottie. Have you thought about that?

I 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

When I'm wasted, I can almost forget who I am," he said, his smile fading slightly. "I know I'm still there, but only barely. It's a good place to be." He tipped back the thermos, eyes on the dark sea straight ahead