“Just be careful, hon,” Rosanna said.“Oh, are the plates hot?” I flinched back just before my hands made contact.Rosanna laughed. “No, but hot boys can burn you just as easily.”

“I plastered on my best poker face, attempting to appear cool and casual even thought I had never been so eager to deliver two Chicken Parmagianas in my life."Just be careful, hon," Rosanna said."Oh, are the plates hot?" I flinched back just before my hands made contact.Rosanna laughed. "No, but hot boys can burn just as easily.”

“I just . . . knew, the way you know how to breathe or to pull your hand back from a hot stove.”

“Look, let me just say it: He was hot. A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy . . . well.”

“I glanced again. He was still watching me.Look, let me just say it: He was hot. A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy... well.”

“I should be the last person to tell you that the plate is hot after you have burned your fingers. ”