She whistled when she noticed my back. I assume because of my injuries. I mean, my ass just isn’t that spectacular.
So you’re the guy who did the no-no cha-cha with my baby sister.
You know what the great thing about babies is? They are like little bundles of hope. Like the future in a basket.
Pity. What a useless emotion when you don’t act on it. Pity is supposed to trigger compassion.
Don’t you think it’s a bad sign that your best argument for your beau is that nothing has been proved in court?
Aves hasn’t mentioned a boyfriend,” Lock chimed in, “and we’re just dying to hear all about you.” Liar. My friends were filthy lying sadists.
But nowhere in the file had anyone said, “Oh, and by the way, he runs like a gazelle with an espresso addiction.” At least not in the parts I’d skimmed.
You are quite possibly the least smooth guy I know,” she mumbled. “You can’t even put your arm around me without tripping up.
Most people felt lost after high school. Sometimes I felt like I’d never really been found in the first place.
Douglas’s fridge was a stainless-steel masterpiece. I’m not that into appliances or anything, but this one was nice and probably cost more than my last apartment. I had the strange desire to hug it every time I came into the kitchen.
She looked away, trying not to cry. She hated crying, and in public she hated it more.
Mrs. Winalski owned a candy-apple-red 1965 Mustang GT convertible, and she drove it like she could die at any minute and needed to get five things done before that happened.