ks." – If he hadn't been glued to me, he wouldn't have run me over. We were still in the middle of the hallwa

etween Hunter and me. – Hey, Delucia! – My arms rested on his shoulders. – Let's go drink in our room. I regained my senses and took the opportunity to escape, practically running down the hallway towards my room. Of course my room had to be the last one. Hunter shouted my name as I put the key in the door. I ignored him and went straight inside. Leaning against the inside of the door, I breathe

e walk in, she raised her champagne glass to her reflection in the mirror. "Holy shit, I'm getting married!" Usually, anything related to marriage brought out my bitter, pessimistic side, but for Anna's sake, I suppressed those feelings. I took the glass from her hand and smiled back. "Holy shit, you're getting married!" The hairdresser smiled wryly and shook his head. "We're very refined, you know?" I joked. In two hours, my best friend would be getting married to a rich, handsome, young, tech-s

o my reflection in the mirror. "Really?" "Why are you smiling, silly?" "He's off-limits because he gives you butterflies." "No, he doesn't," I lied. I didn't even know why I was lying. Besides, the butterflies he gave me weren't the kind I usually felt in my stomach... These butterflies I felt a little lower down. "Yes, they did." "No, they didn't." "Then why n

han one groomsman with tears in his eyes, too. One in particular caught my attention. After the second time Hunter caught me gawking at how handsome he looked in his suit and slicked-back hair, I managed to avoid eye contact for the rest of the ceremony and the first hour of the reception. It wasn't easy, considering how close we were standing since we were both groomsmen. But

avoiding me like I've got something contagious." I stammered, "You must have something contagious." He ignored me. "You look beautiful today. I like your hair up." "Thanks." He pulled me even closer, forcing my head to rest on his shoulder, then leaned in to whisper in my ear, "I can't wait to let it down." The guy had balls, you know. And why, God, did I really want

much sense, but I stuck to the following logic: "You're being rude. I wasn't explicit. It's not what you say that's offensive, it's the way you say it." "So you don't like talking dirty? Maybe you've never heard good dirty talk." "I've heard great di