They’d played “Sweet Home, Alabama” so many times I wanted to crash the party, kill the radio, and knife whoever was selecting the music.

And I was stuck here at Warrior Freaks R Us.

He realized something was going on between Logan and me. I wish he'd clue me in on exactly what it was, because I had no idea.

Really, Gin, did you have to ruin my suit?” he said. “This was a Fiona Fine original.

Her touch was as soft as a snowflake falling onto my skin.

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.