Wow,” said Adrian. He sat down on the bed and tested its bounciness, giving it a nod of approval. “This is amazing. What do you think, buttercup?” “I have no words,” I said honestly. He patted the spot beside him. “Want to try it out?

You can't fool me, comrade. You want to put on a cowboy hat and keep lawless bank robbers in line.'' "No time. I have enough trouble keeping you in line.

This is very domestic of you," he said. "It's kinda hot, really. Giving me all sorts of fantasies about you in an apron vacuuming my house.

What's up?" Christian asked. "Need some hairstyling tips?" "Tips you stole from me? No thanks. But I hear you've got a really good bacon meatloaf recipe." It was worth it then and there to see his complete and total surprise. "Since when do you cook?" he finally managed to stammer. "Oh, you know. I'm a Renaissance man. I do it all. Send it if you've got it, and I'll give it a try. I'll let you know if I make any improvements." His smirk returned. "Are you trying to impress a girl?" "With cooking?" I pointed at my face. "This is all it takes, Ozera.

A gun. I had been brought down by a gun. It was practically comical. Cheaters, I thought.

Even now, despite Angeline's watchfulness, she'd occasionally oscillate between random topics, like how shepherd's pie wasn't a pie at all and why it was pointless for her to take class in typing when technology would eventually develop robot companions to do it for us.

I bet you never thought the hardest part of finding your ‘saviorʹ would be getting her mom to let her stay out past curfew.