She Was Right About Something Else Too,"

She Is Mine, And I Am Hers.

If I Was Drunk, I Wouldn’t Be Here At All. And Really, This Is Pretty Good For Four White Russians.” “white What?” I Almost Sat Down But Was Afraid The Chair Might Dematerialize Beneath Me. “it’s A Drink,” He Said. “you’d Think I Wouldn’t Be Into Something Named That—you Know, Considering My Own Personal Experience With Russians. But They’re Surprisingly Delicious. The Drinks, Not Real Russians.

Rose Only Hangs Out With Guys And Psychopaths," Said Mia. "well," He Said Cheerfully, "since I'm Both A Psychopath And A Guy, That Would Explain Why We're Such Good Friends.

Was It Weird Having A Witch Grandma? Scary? Was She Always, Like, Threatening To Cast Spells If You Were Bad?" "most Of The Time She Just Threatened To Send Me To My Room." "that Doesn't Sound So Scary To Me." "that's Because You Haven't Met Her.

And Sometimes, If I Was Really, Really Lucky, He’d Smile At Me. A Real Smile, Too—not The Dry One That Accompanied The Sarcasm We Tossed Around So Often. I Didn’t Want To Admit It To Anyone—not To Lissa, Not Even To Myself—but Some Days, I Lived For Those Smiles.