Aw You'd Never Hurt Me. My Face

John Cusack Is Standing Over There.” I Followed His Incredulous Gaze To Where A Man Very Like Mr. Cusack Did Indeed Stand, Smoking A Cigarette As He Leaned Against A Building. I Sighed. “that’s Not John Cusack. That’s Jerome.” “seriously?” “yup. I Told You He Looked Like John Cusack.” “keyword: Looked. That Guy Doesn’t Look Like Him. That Guy Is Him.

It's Not My Fault So Much As My Genius.

What Was Love, Really? Flowers, Chocolate, And Poetry? Or Was It Something Else? Was It Being Able To Finish Someone's Jokes? Was It Having Absolute Faith That Someone Was There At Your Back? Was It Knowing Someone So Well That They Instantly Understood Why You Did The Things You Did—and Shared Those Same Beliefs?

Christian's Family Lived Under The Shadow Cast By His Parents. They Had Purposely Become Striogi, Trading Thier Magic And Mortality To Become Immortal And Subsist On Killing Others. His Parents Were Dead Now, But That Didn't Stop People From Not Trusting Him. They Seemed To Think He'd Go Strigoi At Any Moment And Take Everyone Else With Him. His Abrasiveness And Dark Sence Of Humor Didn't Really Help Things, Either.

God, I Got Lucky. If I'd Hurt It, It Would Have Put Me Out Of Practice For A While.” Smiling, He Returned To His Chair. "i Know. You Kept Telling Me That While I Was Carrying You. You Were Very Upset.” "you...you Carried Me Here?” "after We Broke The Bench Apart And Freed Your Foot.” Man. I'd Missed Out On A Lot. The Only Thing Better Than Imagining Dimitri Carrying Me In His Arms Was Imagining Him Shirtless While Carrying Me In His Arms.