“First. Don't get drunk. Don't smoke anything.""Duh. What are you, my dad? That's easy. I don't drink. We aren't even twenty-one. I seriously doubt anyone will be drinking at the Hodjwick house. And who smokes cigarettes anymore? So gross."Dustin shook his head. "You are so backwards. I wasn't talking about cigarettes, and if you truly believe no one will be drinking at a high school party on a Saturday night then you are too much of a baby to even leave your own house.”

“oh god it’s wonderful to get out of bed and drink too much coffee and smoke too many cigarettes and love you so much”

“And you do, don't you? Love me just a little? Because I'll say it again. Right now, to your face. I straight up love you, Jess Jordan. I'll shout it if it will help plead my case. But I have to at least get that point across before one more minute passes.”

“My heart races and I look away. “Well I care. So, write it down. For nine weekends and eight thousand dollars, what's yours is mine including your friends.” I throw in a little sarcastic eye flutter. “We're going to be so head-over-heels-in-love. I can't wait to see how romantic you are!” “Oh no. I refuse to be your kind of bumper-sticker-romantic. Don't mistake me for Mr. Darcy.” I gasp. “You don't know Hunger Games or Forks, Washington, but you know Mr. Darcy? Start talking.” “Crap! My grandmother's a fan. She's tortured me since birth with Mr. Darcy. Thanks to her DVD collection, I can quote Jane Austen faster than the Elmo song.” I laugh, surprised again. “Prove it.” “Elizabeth, daaarling!” He's launched into a breathless English accent. “I love, love, love you, and I never want to be parted from you from this day forward. Pardon me, whilst I puke…” “No way!” I beam. “Let the contract state that I want the Mr. Darcy accent once a week!” I can't help but laugh again because he's shaking his head and laughing back.”

“Oh" She seems relieved. "So you weren't—""Don't worry, Ms.Grey. I wasn't drinking, smoking, toking or snorting in school. I keep the recreational drug use at home where it belongs.”

“If you don't want my services, then it's only fair you cut me loose so I can make another girl or two happy this summer. Or three.” He shifts my papers into a neater pile. “What will they do once I take you off the market?” I ask. “I can only imagine the poor girls wandering around like a lost herd of sheep all summer, wondering where you went.” I risk another glance at the staring girls and shudder. “Do they even blink? Baa. Baa. Baa.”

“I go to my Room and I drink and I smoke some cigarettes and I think about her. I drink and I smoke and I think about her and at a certain point blackness comes and my memory fails me.”