Alright, good night,” he said, his words a little slurred. “But before I pass out, I want you to know that you’re the hottest biscuit this side of the gravy boat.

When I was younger I used to think that band-aids did all the work. I mean after all, it binds your wound together and makes everything better back to the way it was. But then I became an adult and started to fall in love, and I realize that band-aids are so overrated lol.

What does a freelance researcher do?”
“Researches things.” He winks at me and helps lift my bike onto a cobblestone walkway. “It’s not an interesting or particularly sexy job. Nobody wants to date a perpetual studier, but I bet there’s an army of guys crawling over each other to get to you.”
More like crawling away. “You’re ridiculous. Who’d ever want to date me?”
“Someone like you? There’d be a line at your door as soon as work got out.”
“Oh, would you be in the line?” Sarcasm. Not a real question. I don’t care if he responds—heat burns my toes, ears, and everything in-between—well, maybe I care a little.
Jack pauses and gazes into me. “Yeah … I’m in the line … and I’m better than all the other guys so you should really pick me. I’m funny. I’m strong, like, I could sweep you off your feet and run without breaking a sweat. I can also blow milk through my nose, but only if I’m drunk and the milk is warm.

Love is bread and water to the soul. My relationships are quite soggy.


Honey, nobody ever knows someone completely. You have to just enjoy what you do know and have faith in the rest.

This was fun. We should find out we're still married more often."
"Why, so every day can be a special new plunge into hell?"
"Nobody I'd rather burn with than you, babe.