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I had a standing arrangement with God: I’d agree to believe in him—barely—so long as he let me sleep in on Sundays.
He handed it to me. Moroi Saints. “You can learn about her in here. The next time I see you, I’d like to hear what you’ve learned.” I scowled as I walked away. Great. Homework from the priest.
“Whoa, Dimitri,” I said, tossing my bag on the floor. “I realize this is actually a current hit in Eastern Europe right now, but do you think we could maybe listen to something that wasn’t recorded before I was born?”
“Go find your pacifier, and shut the hell up,”
The skin on his fingers was warm as he clutched my wrists. His face hovered inches from my own, and his legs and torso were actually pressing against mine. Some of his long brown hair hung around his face, and he appeared to be noticing me too, almost like he had that night in the lounge. And oh God, did he smell good. Breathing became difficult for me, and it had nothing to do with the workout or my lungs being crushed.
SHES SEVENTEEN FOR GODS SAKE
There was so much testosterone in the air, I felt like I needed a gas mask.
LOL
“Rose, I’m seven years older than you. In ten years, that won’t mean so much, but for now, it’s huge. I’m an adult. You’re a child.”
“No. If I let myself love you, I won’t throw myself in front of her. I’ll throw myself in front of you.”
