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Her platinum-blonde hair is short, just past her chin, with her signature natural wave that girls apparently pay a lot of money to have. Her porcelain face is devoid of all makeup, her dark lashes frame her mossy eyes, and that little slope of her nose feels so damn familiar that it makes me want to reach out and touch it. She’s about five inches shorter than me. Not terribly short, but not tall either. Her frame is lithe and of course, with one glance I can tell she’s not wearing a bra. I can count the amount of times I’ve seen her wear one. “What’s the point when they’re small and perky?” is
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Ugh. Who has naturally platinum blonde hair and dark lashes. Plus small and perky breast. Are we sure a woman wrote this?
Jason was pegged by the opposing pitcher, on purpose. “Why are you always getting in fights?” Her eyes seem like they triple in size when she looks back up at me and fuck, I feel guilty. When the Rebels drafted me, I knew what I was getting myself into. They’re a team that doesn’t sit back and take it up the ass,
She waves her hand at me. “I made the mess, I’ll clean it. Plus, I saw those nasty chemicals you use on your counters and took it upon myself to make some natural cleaning products that won’t clog the air in the apartment with quaternary ammonium compounds. I safely disposed of the chemicals, cleaned then recycled the bottles, which, did you know you don’t have a recycling bin in your apartment? How on earth do you recycle things? Or compost?”