Fine.” He smirks at me. “Nice to meet you, Carrots,” he says, looking directly at my hair. “Oh, I mean Clara.”
My face flames.
“Same to you, Rusty,” I shoot back, but he’s already striding away.
Crap. No one's ever called me dorkina before. Derivative of dork. Not good.
Cynthia HandI chose you, Clara, and you chose me. End of story.
Shelly CraneBefore I moved here, I never got the whole love-triangle thing. You know, in movies or romance novels or whatnot, where there’s one chick that all the guys are drooling over, even though you can’t see anything particularly special about her. But oh, no, they both must have her. And she’s like, oh dear, however will I choose? William is so sensitive, he understands me, he swept me off my feet, oh misery, blubber, blubber, but how can I go on living without Rafe and his devil-may-care ways and his dark and only-a-little-abusive love? Upchuck.
Cynthia HandMots clés clara
Note to self: buy some nunchucks or something.
Cynthia HandMots clés clara
There I go, Clara the parrot. I belong on a pirate's shoulder.
Cynthia HandOkay, that was, I have to say, about the cheesiest thing I ever heard in my life,” I say to Angela as we’re milling around afterward. We hug, so Billy can take our picture. “I mean, seriously. Just be? You should write ads for Nike.
Cynthia HandI'll never forget the way he tastes. It's not anything I can describe, a little sweet and a whole lot of spice, and it feels, in that moment, absolutely right.
Cynthia HandTucker strokes my hair. There's something so tender about the gesture. It might as well have been him whispering I love you.
Cynthia HandMots clés love hair tenderness clara tucker
You and I have a connection that nothing, not on heaven or earth, or even hell, could ever break. If you want to talk to me, talk to me. I’ll hear you…
Cynthia HandMots clés death heaven angel hallowed mom clara
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