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

How Was It That Adrian Ivashkov, Who Never Seemed To Take Anything Seriously Was The Only One Among These "responsible" People Who Paid Attention To Such Small Details? How Was He The Only One To Really Understand The Magnitude Of What I Was Feeling?

Bless You, Daugher Of Man.

A Ghostly Smile Flickered Across His Face. "if You Weren't So Psychotic, You'd Be Fun To Hang Around." "funny, I Feel That Way About You Too." He Didn't Say Anything Else, But The Smile Grew, And He Walked Away.

Adrian Suddenly Glanced Up At Me. Our Gazes Locked, And I Felt Like He Could Read My Mind. How Often Did He Think About That Kiss? And If He Really Was Crazy About Me, Did He Imagine More Than Just Kissing? Did He Fantasize About Me? What Kinds Of Things Did He Think About? His Lips On My Neck? His Hand On My Leg? And Was That Leg Bare . . . ?

She Studied Him For A Few More Seconds. “you Look Too Pretty To Be Useful.” I Gasped In Spite Of Myself. Adrian Chuckled And Shook Her Hand. “truer Words Were Never Spoken,” He Said.