I can’t believe you’re old enough to have your purpose,” Mom says with a sigh. “Makes me feel old.”
“You are old.
And,” Kay adds as her final touch, “Christian Prescott is my boyfriend.”
I dislike her already.
Hot is really not an adequate enough word for this guy. He is crazy beautiful. And it’s more than his looks—the intentionally messy waves of his dark hair; the strong eyebrows that make his expression a bit serious, even when he smiles; his eyes, which I notice can look emerald in one light and hazel in another; the sweetly sculpted angles of his face; the curve of his full lips.
Cynthia HandI don’t particularly want Kay to be a good person. I’m perfectly comfortable thinking about her as the wicked witch
Cynthia HandMots clés clara
His name is Christian,” he calls back. “Can you believe that? We came all this way
so Clara could save a guy named Christian.”
“I’m aware of the irony.
Mots clés christian clara jeffrey
Once again, my hero. And here I’m supposed to be the one saving him.
Cynthia HandAs a serf, poor Christian has already been killed several times in our class. Aside from dying of the Black Plague on the first day, he’s starved to death, had his hands cut off for stealing a loaf of bread, and been run down by his master’s horse just for kicks. He’s like Christian the fifth now.
Cynthia HandA light comes on in his eyes. “Sure, why not? A date with Queen Elizabeth.” He smiles.
Cynthia HandMots clés clara
Okay,” I say again. It seems that I’ve been reduced to single syllables by a single touch. Maybe Angela’s right. Maybe the swoony hand-holding in my vision means that part of my purpose means getting this really hot guy as my boyfriend. That wouldn’t suck.
Cynthia HandA string of very un-angelic curse words come to mind.
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