He raised his brows. "You're drunk." "Am not!" He gave me a bland look. "A drunk's famous last words before they fall flat on their face.

It’s just a cookie, sweetheart.

My bag hit the floor, spilling overpriced books and pens across the shiny floor. My pens! My glorious pens rolled everywhere.

People got out of the way for Cam. He was like a hot Moses, parting a sea of drunk college students.

You’re a good guy, Cam.” “No, I’m not.” He exhaled deeply and his breath was warm against my cheek. “I’m only good with you.

You’re young and you have all your life ahead of you.

What? I'm not ashamed to admit that random things remind me of Harry Potter.