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Jelly-filled, glazed, iced with sprinkles…Donuts. They’re my kryptonite.
As I drag a finger through the thick vanilla frosting, I can think of only one more ingredient to turn my sugar fest into utter perfection.
Bobby Moone, my other weakness, who happens to be equally scrumptious and one I want to devour like this Boston Creme.
Oh yeah, he’s also my best friend.
I suck the icing off of my finger. Damn, I wish I was licking it off something else. But I missed my chance, and now he’s gone, just like this box of sinfully delicious pastries. Off to Los Angeles to become a famous rockstar when he could have married me instead.
Maybe I should have told him that was an option before he took over the music industry.
Maybe I still will...
