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because when he burned copper, it produced a dark, vivid blue flame—the exact color of Ian’s eyes. I’ve kept a little bowl of shiny pennies on my nightstand ever since.
For 1300 days, I’ve been best friends with Ian Fletcher, and for 1300 days, I’ve convinced myself I’m not in love with him.
It sounded like a Kidz Bop version of Taylor Swift.
This guy really thinks he’s going to get Sam—my Sam.
As Chandler would say, That would be perfection.
They spend their time binge-watching Glee and singing acapella versions of Taylor Swift. They’re harmless.
“What about Chandler and Monica?”
“You’re mine and you don’t even know it. I’ve never told you.”
“Something old, borrowed, and blue.” He offers it to me. “Best I could do on short notice.”
“I thought that was obvious, Hot Lips. Best friends, forever.”
