Can I take a rain check? Weekends are busy for me." He shrugged, his perma smile back in all its dimpled glory. "You'd probably figure out a way to nearly get killed, anyway.

In the interest of not pissing you off anymore tonight, let's not select that particular playlist.

Survival instincts are one of those things that never die.

I can’t see through clothes or anything. Just glamour skin. Except I can see through all of you, since your clothes aren’t real.” I stopped, horrified. “I mean, I don’t look—It’s hard to see you, and I like looking at your real face, but I don’t try to see anything, because—Oh gosh, this sounds terrible.” He had a funny look on his face, like he wasn’t sure what to think. “Huh. That’s never been an issue before. Maybe next time you could bring me some shorts.

I will fill myself with the desert and the sky. I will be stone and stars, unchanging and strong and safe. The desert is complete; it is spare and alone, but perfect in its soltitude. I will be the desert.

Plus as she put it, Prince Eric was far too hairy and peach colored for her taste. I always thought he was pretty hott, but then again, I am a mammal.

I'm fine." It's a lie. I am not fine. My head is a symphony of pain, a sadistic master maestro conducting an opus of excruciating, devastating perfecting.