I'm really not good with impulse control.

He'd written me up a proposal of why dating him was a sound decision. It had included things like "I'll give up cigarettes unless I really, really need one" and "I'll unleash romantic surprises every week, such as: an impromptu picnic, roses, or a trip to Paris—but not actually any of those things because now they're not surprises.

I'm sure. But it doesn't work with me. for one thing, you won't look me in the eye. As for the other...I don't know. I can just tell.

When he finished, he drank from the cup. Everyone else did too, so I followed suit. And nearly choked to death. It was like fire in liquid form. It took every ounce of strength I had to swallow it and not spray it on those around me. "Wh...what is this?" I asked, coughing. Viktoria grinned. "Vodka." I peered at the glass. "No, it isn't. I've had vodka before." "Not Russian vodka." Apparently not.

He leaned closer to me and then seemed shocked as he realized what he was doing. "Why would you do that? Why would you do that for me?

My smile faded, and I suddenly felt confused. My heart leapt in my chest. "Why would you do that for me?" "What wouldn't I do for you?

While I'm fine with you two dating and being happy, please try not to break his heart too much when the time comes.