“How fast is that in American?” “Slowwww dowwwwn!” In American? What an idiot. Rolling his eyes, he eased off the gas. He turned to me with th...t big grin of his, white teeth lighting up his suntanned face. “Better, Lynnie?” “Don’t call me that; I hate it,” I shifted in my seat, pressing my back against the door, to face him. “Better… at least now we can talk.” I saw my kid brother steal a quick glance at my legs. What a hound , I thought. Maybe these jean shorts aren’t right for a trip to the. He was 29, an athelete, and had jet-black hair that always was messy. They fell in love their Senior year of high school, and graduated together. She got a job at the library, and he was a burger-flipper. They had bought their first apartment when she was 25 and he 27, and were pretty good where money was concerned. They had good friends, their parents were proud of them, it was all good. Why would I want to get out? he whispered. Good boy. Now, what will I do to you tonight? She grinned as. More

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