If Kisses Were What You Were Looking

Even Though I Loved To Write, I Never Liked English Lit. Class Very Much. I Think It Ruins Books When You Dissect Them Too Much. I Liked My Art Classes Best.

Because When You Love Something, You Want To Do It All The Time, Even If No One Is Paying You For It. At Least That's How I Felt About Drawing.

Jesse, Who Had Not Stirred The Whole Time From The Spot He'd Been Standing, Confident I Could Handle Cheryl Myself, Was Grinning. "it's Every Girl's Dream To Guy To Go To Prom With The Guy She Loves?" He Echoed, Not Just One, But Both Inky Black Eyebrows Raised. "don't Start With Me," I Said. I Tried To Hide My Suddenly Flaming Cheeks By Scraping Away What Was Left Of The Cannolis, And Replacing Them With The Contents Of An Upended Bag Of Chocolate Chip Cookies. "i Have Things To Do.

Okay, Yeah, He Staggered Back And Fell Into The Condiments. Big Deal. There Wasn't Any Blood. I Didn't Even Get Him In The Face. He Saw My Fist Coming, And At The Last Minute He Ducked, So Instead Of Punching Him In The Nose, Like I Intended, I Ended Up Punching Him In The Neck. I Highly Doubt It Even Left A Bruise.

That Hurt Querida, That Really Hurt