It’s A Cat. Boy, You Couldn’t Slip

And While Seeing Trent In His Tighty-whities Would Make My Decade, I’d Found Out Long Ago That I Couldn’t Stay Mad At A Man Wearing Nothing But Underwear. They Looked So Charmingly Vulnerable.

Good God,” I Whispered, Sitting On The Van’s Cot And Looking At My Legs, Horrified. They Were Hairy—not Wolf Hairy, But An I-couldn’t-find-my-razor-the-last-six-months Hairy. Utterly Grossed Out, I Took A Peek At My Armpit, Jerking Away. Oh, That’s Just…nasty.

You Are Your Father's Daughter,' He Said, The Skin Around His Eyes Tightening. 'trent Is His Father's Son. Apart, You Are Annoying. Together...you Have The Potential To Be A Problem.

I Said School Starts Tomorrow. I Didn’t Say I Was Going To Be There.

And What’s Important To You?” I Asked. Marshal Thought While We Maneuvered Around Darth Vader, Who Was Struggling To Keep From Hitting The Wall With His Helmet Blocking His Vision. “success At Work. Having Fun Doing It. Caring For Someone And Supporting Their Interests Because You Like To See Them Happy. Having Them Care About And Support Yours Simply Because They Want To See You Happy.