Jules

“Dat means you like me.   A lot.”

“Yeah, it does.”   Captain obvious.

“So dat means I’m Mr. Bryn.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh.   Whatever I say?   You want me to be da boss?   Because dat’s not a problem at all.   I like to be da boss of you.”

“No,” I said, putting on and zipping up my shorts, “you are not the boss of me.   I’m the boss of me and you.”

He frowned.   “Dat’s not fair.   I want to be da boss of something.”

“You can be the boss of Buster.”

“No, not da dog.   Dat’s not da boss of anything, really.”

“Fine.   You can be the boss of … I don’t know.   Kissing.”

Bodo stopped putting on his shirt, his eyes taking on a special gleam, making me almost regret I had said it.”
― Elle Casey, Warpaint

“First Cooper and now Quinn, she had to stay off this porch, it was a dangerous place to be.”
― Theresa Shaver, Land

“Carrie? Hello?”

“Keer-ee-eh,” I said, emphasizing the middle vowel.  Normally, I don’t care if people mispronounce my name, unusual as it is, but I was annoyed at the distraction.

“Like the song?”

Turning, I leveled a glare at my interrupter.  Not very good of me, customer-service wise, but I was not feeling myself. “Yes, I was named after the pop song,” I said. “Exactly.”

“Why would your mom do that?”

Because when you’re eighteen and pregnant and unmarried and homeless and that song comes on the radio, it holds a lot of spiritual and emotional meaning to your immature and overwhelmed little self.  But I didn’t say that.  Instead I shrugged. “Lots of parents name their kids after songs.”
― Genevieve Pearson, Revelations

“Don’t worry.   Your knight in shining armor will arrive someday.   And when he does, I know he’ll not only be totally adorable, but he’ll be a good cuddler, too.   I’ll bet Trip is a horrible cuddler.”   I narrowed my eyes at the offender, ignoring his amazing body in favor of his imagined snuggling crimes.

“Yeah,” said Peter, gamely.   “He probably just lays there and expects to be the cuddlee all the time and not the cuddler.”

“You are so right.   Just look at him.   I’ll bet you twenty bucks he’s a cover-stealer, too.”

“Not that twenty bucks means anything, since bills are only good for feeding fires right now, but yeah.   I get it.   I’ll bet you a can of beans he’s a cover-stealer.”

“A can of beans and a bag of chips,” I countered.

“Whoa.   That’s serious.   A bag of chips?   Really?”

“What’s serious?” asked Kowi, coming up from behind and scaring both of us enough to make us jump.

“Uh … nothing?” I said, looking sheepish.”
― Elle Casey, Warpaint