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“I’m a woman. I am desperately, irrevocably in love with shoes.”
“A bare-chested Vin Diesel is always good,” I reply haughtily.
“This wasn’t a great start to convince me to make any changes.”
“Come on, honey, open those pretty green eyes.” “I don’t have to.”
“Come on, morning girl, wake up. It’s time to go get me all hot and bothered at the gym.”
“Oh Jesus, you’re a morning person. This could change everything.”
“Am I supposed to get jealous every time a fan fawns all over you? They all want in your pants. All of them. They fantasize about fucking you and wooing you and about you being their boyfriend. Trust me, those girls have all spent more time thinking about you than I care to think about.”
“Don’t you dare say that it isn’t the same thing. A crush is a crush is a crush. Brad has as much a chance of getting in my pants as any one of those pathetic
women has of getting into yours.”
Holy shit, Luke’s gone all out! Is this how he says he’s sorry? If so, we might have to argue more often.
He flashes a wolfish smile and winks, and I don’t know whether to smack him or really kiss him.
I’ve got it bad. Stop this. Get rid of the baby.
“I’m the man. You just tell me when and where to show up and what I’m supposed to wear, and I’ll be there.”
