I reached into my pocket and triumphantly flashed the CR-V keys Iʹd swiped when weʹd come back inside. ʺThe driver,ʺ I said. I DIDNʹT GET TO DRIVE.

She studied him for a few more seconds. “You look too pretty to be useful.” I gasped in spite of myself. Adrian chuckled and shook her hand. “Truer words were never spoken,” he said.

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.

My muse is an ungrateful harlot who’s abandoned me to actually come up with my own plots.

I looked at you... and saw your goodness, your hope, and your faith. Those are what make you beautiful. So, so beautiful. So it was't my hair?

Our lips met hungrily, and his clever artistic hands wrapped around my hips. A sudden buzz from my regular cell phone startled me from the kissing. "Don't," said Adrian, his eyes ablaze and breathing ragged. "What if there's a crisis at school?" I asked. "What if Angeline 'accidentally' stole one of the campus buses and drove it into the library?" "Why would she do that?" "Are you saying she wouldn't?" He sighed. "Go check it.

I thought Alchemists avoided alcohol the same way they do primary colors.