I Don't Know, But I Think It's

You Made Your Own Jean Shorts...with A Butter Knife?

You…you Got Rid Of That Dress Fast," I Pointed Out Between Heavy Breaths. "i Thought You Liked It." "i Do Like It," He Said. His Breathing Was As Heavy As Mine. "i Love It." And Then He Took Me To The Bed.

He Was Too Perfect, Despite Being One Of The Most Imperfect People I Knew.

Good God. Men Everywhere.

If I Could Dream, I Know I'd Dream About You.i'd Dream About The Way You Smell And How Your Dark Hair Feels Like Silk Between My Fingers. I'd Dream About The Smoothness Of Your Skin And The Fierceness Of Your Lips When We Kiss. Without Dreams,i Have To Be Content With My Own Imagination—which Is Almost As Good. I Can Picture All Those Things Perfectly.