Blueprints for Building Better Girls [antikvár]

Monsters of the Deep love you," Ross says. I laugh, "You don't even know me " and he looks startled, like I've just exploded something in his face. He sinks back against the pillows, confused, like maybe he read the manual wrong. Aren't all girls supposed to want to hear this? "I do so. I know you really well," Ross says, running his finger across the rainbow I've drawn arching over my hip bone, and down between my legs, hesitant but so eager it's pathetic, like even now, after all these months, he's worried that I'm going to stop him. I'm not going to stop him. If I stopped him, we'd have to talk. The last thing I want to do is talk. "Hey." I pull away. "Why don't you put on the TV? Monsters of the Deep is about to start." "But I'm so comfortable," he groans, but we both know he's so happy to be getting laid he'll do anything to keep me here. I could probably do the crossword puzzle, or knit while we're doing it. I'm sure I'm his first. Up until last year his mom was still making up his bed with Star Wars sheets. Luke Skywalker facing the Death Star with a giant lightsaber in hand, and a freakishly stacked Princess Leia, on her knees at his feet. Lay-ya. An adolescent nerd's wet dream.