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March 31 - April 16, 2025
Thanks, Larry. I appreciate the way you found a fleet of double decker buses and threw me underneath them.
“I gave Aaron your number. The one he had must have been wrong. He said it went to some business.” It sure did: Franco’s Birthday Clowns. Because after the dinner with my parents and the Wagners, that’s the number I gave him. It’s what Aaron deserves. Clowns.
Clowns for the Clown 🤡
The way Aaron kept incessantly hitting on me while staring at my chest—which, if I’m being totally honest, isn’t all that much to write home about—tempted me to poke him in the eye with one of the breadsticks.
Not worth the breadstick
Dear door, I was wrong to reprimand and criticize you. You have given me this beautiful gift, and I shall forever be grateful.
“You like cats now? And what kind of name is Mr. Eds? Plural?” “It’s short for Evil Demon Spawn,” she says, like this is a totally normal name for a cat. Or anything else.
🤷♀️ Seems normal to me
The issue is that up to this point, kissing anyone at all has remained a fantasy. And only a fantasy. Because I haven’t kissed anyone. Ever. Not a peck. Not more than a peck. Zero making out at all on my relationship resume.
Girl same
“Her name is Ivy,” Felix says. “Your library has a name?” I remember something Alec said the night before at the bar and laugh. “The guys think Ivy is your secret hook-up.” Felix only smiles. “I know. She’s very convenient for getting me out of things I don’t want to do. Ivy needs me to spend a lot of time with her.” Though I don’t get the reading part, I can appreciate the genius of the idea.
I think im in love with Felix
Aaron Wagners of the world, take note! A man does not have to have a staring contest with a woman’s boobs to make her feel wanted. I feel more desired from one hot but PG-rated look from Logan than I ever have.
“Where did you come from?” I ask the chair, clearly not learning my lesson after it didn’t answer my first question.
Logan shrugs, still with that same tiny smug smirk. A smirg, if you will.
I take a hesitant step back, my brain working overtime to find any excuse not to go. I have cramps. A migraine. A sudden and crippling case of vertigo. My nonexistent goldfish died and required a burial at sea.
Who knew the man had more than one brain cell? There are at least two in there.
His hips? They don’t lie. His feet? Not guilty, because they have got serious rhythm. His groove thing? Thoroughly shaken.
I literally cried over this, like gut busting crying 🤣
the instrumental version of “Uptown Funk.”
Fiander, a guy in college whose breath smelled so much like dog food that I panicked when he got close and pretended to faint. Which made him panic and desert me in a restaurant parking lot. A class act.
“How many of these stories involve someone needing to go to the hospital?” Logan asks. “I’d say about sixty percent. I did wonder briefly if I’d been cursed.” “I mean, you have to consider it.” Logan shakes his head. “You’re right—those stories are … something.” “Oh, I’m not even done,” I tell him. “This last one is by far the worst. If you still really want to know.” “Tell me. It’s kind of like a car wreck I can’t look away from.”
Logan looks downright murderous now, which makes me feel all warm and happy. Guess I’m into homicidal urges now.
This is either the best or worst idea I’ve ever had. Ask me again tomorrow.
As much as I love reading romance, there are a few phrases authors use that I simply cannot handle. The one that makes me immediately roll my eyes is a character saying they felt their ovaries explode. Yeah, right. Ovaries. Exploding. First—ew. Second—what woman is aware enough to feel their ovaries? Or maybe I’m just NOT aware of mine. Third—out of all the anatomical parts of the body to feel desire, why ovaries? I mean, sure, I get the whole thing about a man being so amazing, a woman might think about marriage and babies. But to feel your ovaries explode? Hard pass. Only … I think I get it
...more
opinion. Cats are independent and brilliant and can display very human emotions. Except for mine, who displays demon emotions.
“Please. I’m an athlete, not an imbecile. I can boil water.”
These thoughts though are quickly eclipsed by a more immediate worry. Because a cat whose name is a shortening of Evil Demon Spawn is currently parked on my chest.
How in the world does this cat hide underneath furniture? He looks like he could eat furniture for breakfast. Is he actually a domestic cat? Or some kind of bobcat house cat hybrid?
prefer this pleasant version of Mr. Eds to the evil demon spawn version. Also, if it came down to it, I think he could take me.
FOMS (feline of monstrous size)
“Can I move you? Will you be a nice kitty or are you going to eat my face?”
“You shouldn’t give up what you really want just because someone else asks you to.”
Snaps
They’ve even taped a whole group of congratulations balloons to my locker. Well—congratulations balloons and one that reads Get Well Soon. I hope that one is an accident and not a veiled threat from Nathan, who’s the only one not smiling and clapping.
“She’s not a diamond necklace you can stick in a vault,” Felix says, shaking his head. “She’s a person.”
Ugh, Felix! I love you 😘
about all the personal things I’d like to do with Parker right now. Just when I think Parker can’t get more attractive, she goes and does something like put a bunch of grown men acting like boys in their place.
“Maybe it’s not too much. Maybe you’ve just grown used to not enough.”
😍😍😍
That’s when Parker steps into the elevator. Her eyes swing between the two of us as her expression hardens. She jabs her finger into the button for the top level of the complex and then rounds on her brother. Honestly, I wouldn’t want to be Brandon right now. Parker’s fury is a little terrifying. “First of all, no. No—you don’t get to step in and say anything about my dating life. Period. This overprotective brother who shows up only when it’s convenient for him is getting tired. I’m over it.” “Park—” Brandon starts, but she waves a hand in his face. “Nope. You’re done talking.”
FUCK HIM UP PARKER!!!
Hockey players in uniform? Excellent. Hockey players shirtless? Extraordinarily good. Hockey players in tailored suits arriving for a game? Simply … epic.
😊
A good hugger my brother is not. He’s honestly not the best at showing affection, period.
Maybe thats just a brother thing
“I don’t want you to hate me,” he says. “Too bad.” “But I am glad that you love me.” “I don’t. I hate you.” “Because Pete—I love you too.” “I still hate you. Wait—what?”
