The driver got out smiling. He looked about seventeen or eighteen, and for a second, I had the uneasy feeling it was Luke, my old enemy. This guy had the same sandy hair and outdoorsy good looks. But it wasn't Luke. His smile was brighter and more playful. (Luke didn't do much more than scowl and sneer these days.) The Maserati driver wore jeans and loafers and a sleeveless T-shirt.
"Wow" Thalia muttered. Apollo Is hot."
"He's the sun god," I said.
"That's not what I meant.
A brick could be used as the lead singer of a band called “The More Interesting Than.” I would say get Miley Cyrus to do it, but she isn’t interesting enough.
As a captain whose vessel is about to crash on the rocks empties its souls of doubt, so are the hesitant useful for throwing off of an enterprise nearing its end: blame must be cast in failure, profits divided easily in success.
You were at the party on Friday night, weren't you?" I didn't mentioned I'd followed him into the woods.
He leaned back in his chair, his legs sprawled out. His boots nudged the bottom ruffle of my skirt. "Aye."
Aye? Seriously? Could he be any hotter?
Unless he had been looking for his girlfriend at the party.
Not hot.
"I was supposed to meet my cousin," he elaborated, "but I didn't find her,"
Hot again.
Warren made a noise, the first one I'd heard out of him since we'd come into the room. I'd have been happier if he hadn't sounded scared.
"Easy, Warren," Adam told him. "You're safe here.”
"If you die on us, you won't be," said Kyle with a growl that would have done credit to any of the werewolves in the room.
...leaning down for a quick peck on Jeff's lips, and then he starts squirming and rearranging and manhandling until somehow they end up with Dan in the middle, Jeff stretched out on his left side, Evan on his right. Dan isn't really sure how that happened, and he's not at all confident that it's a good idea.
She texted me telling me her mom was dying, so I did the right thing and texted her back a picture of my erect penis and said, “Let’s start a new family.”
I strongly believe if you stuck a bunch of angry bickering women in a room with a pastor, a couple of bodyguards, a plate of brownies, a box of Kleenex and a bottle of Xanax, all the stupid hang ups they have with one another wouldn’t drag out for years. Also, I strongly feel if you put Brad Pitt in a room with a bunch of bickering women they would forget what the problem was all about.