Logan Quinn was the kind of guy who could stab me in the eye with a freaking Twizzler.

You're late." "Sorry. I was busy talking about my feelings and killing people.

The two men eyed each other. Assessing strengths. Looking for weaknesses. Measuring dicks once again

Logan Quinn was the kind of guy who could stab me in the eye with a freaking Twizzler.

Burn, baby, burn,” she muttered in a hard, satisfied voice. I cleared my throat. “As much as I hate to interrupt the supreme satisfaction you’re taking in watching the mansion blaze to the ground, I’d really like to get out of here before the whole house collapses on top of us.

Y’all might as well come on out,” I said. “I know you’re there. I can smell you.” “Smell me? But I just took a shower this morning!” an indignant voice drifted out of the shadows. There was a loud sound, like someone was getting smacked upside the head. Then another voice let out a low mutter. “Shut up, idiot.

I'm a figment of your imagination. You're only imagining that I'm sitting here eating with you. Because I'm just so freaking awesome that people daydream about being seen with me.