I am not cute. I am the dreaded Grim Reaper. People fear me, you know. There's a whole song about it.

Hey." Her grin grew as she glanced from me to Nash, then back. "You're blocking the fridge." "There's a cooler in the other room." Nash nodded toward the main part of the house. Emma shrugged. "Yeah, but no one's making out in front of it.

Talking. According to Marc, I could talk the color off a crayon.

Bold. Risky. Dramatic. I approve.

Wait, Saturday night?" The ladder-backed chair creaked and I looked up as he leaned forward to eye me in growing suspicion. "I thought you stayed home." I shrugged and raised one eyebrow at him. "I thought I was human.

Anyway, I was the one in real danger. I got cornered by a pack of wild sorority girls in the food court. Apparently it's mating season.

The school sent you flowers. I’m sure that totally makes up for the fact that they hired the psychotic, soul-stealing pedophile who murdered you in your own home.