“Fuck, he's pretty.”

“Fucking Wallbanger,” I hissed, frozed on the spot. His grin slid off as well as he played place-the-face for a moment. “Fucking Pink Nightie Girl.”

“Just trying to get a visual of you on the beach in Spain…How's that working out for you?Pretty spiffy.Spiffy? Did you just say spiffy?I typed it actually. You got something against spiffy?”

“Why do all men seem to think they need to rescue a woman? Are we not capable of rescuing our damn selves? Why do I need to be rescued? I don’t need a man to rescue me, and I certainly don’t need no wallbanging, Purina-fucking, listening-at-my-wall-like-a-goddamn-psycho coming over here to rescue me! You got that, mister?”

“And Caroline? Speaking fo thin walls?" he said, as he opened his door and looked back at me. He leaned in his own doorway, thumping his fist on the wall."Yes?" I asked a little too dreamily for my own good.His smirk reappeared and he said, "Sweet dreams".He thumped the wall one more time, winked, and went inside.Huh. Sweet dreams and thin walls. Sweet dreams and thin walls...Mother of pearl. He'd heard me...”

“Hey, if you're going to say what I think you're going to say…wait, are you going to say it?” he asked, smiling down at me.“Yes, yes I think so.” I grinned shyly back.“Well, then I think we should say it at the same time, yes?” he suggested.“Count of three?” I asked. He nodded.“One…” I started.“Two…” he said, eyes twinkling.“Three,” we said together. We both paused, smiling hugely, and then I took a deep breath.“Jack, I love you.”“I know,” he said at the same time.Ass…“Ass!” I said, smacking him on the arm.“That was great!” he laughed.”

“I got in trouble for fondling buns,” he whispered.”