Me: Is it weird that I’m proud of myself?
Maxim: Probably.
Maxim: But stay freaky.
Me: Gladly
Still proud, I muse:
Me: Wonder if I could get a florist to make me a bunch of flowers
Maxim: Considering that’s their job…
Me: Wait for it
Me: That spells out
Me: C
Me: U
Me: N
Me: T
Maxim: I like this idea more.
Maxim: Then, as a reward for letting me off easy, I’ll fuck you in the back of the car on the way home
Me: NOW THAT SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN!
Me: Your vanilla-like stance on grave-fucking is forgiven
Maxim: How happy I am to know that my kroshka is so easily pleased
Me: Oops! Professor Moron is looking at me. GTG
Maxim: See you soon
Me: xo
“Ms. Vasov,” Langton snaps, and I get the feeling he’s asked me a couple times because he only turns purple when students ignore him.
“What’s the problem, Professor? CanI help?”
He grits his teeth. “I asked you a question.”
“Ah, well, I wasn’t listening…”
Denver Parilla looks at me over her shoulder and winks.
“…but, I have a philosophical question for you…”
Displeased, he snarls, “What?”
“Is it wrong to be in love with a dead man?”
“I’d say it depends…” the guy sitting next to Denver inserts. I think his name’s Callan. “…on whether?—”
