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If I were sixteen again, I’d write his name all over my notebooks.
No amount of common sense is going to stop that train from running down the sexy track.
It’s like a Mr. Potato Head workout body. Clip-on abs, clip-on pecs, clip on triangle-shaped muscle thingies that go down into the front of his pants.
BEDS. Those are your defensive options. Block. Evade. Deflect. And Strike.”
“I mean without you freaking out on me.” There’s a three-second pause before she responds. “Did you do anal sex? Is that what this is about?”
