“He flashes me his dimple-laden grin, and I faint.  No… literally. I fainted.”

“I’m so…so sorry.”“You’re forgiven,” he said with a grin. “Don’t ever do it again.”“I won’t. I promise.”He flashed his dimple and shook his head. “I fucking love you.”

“Peter flashes an impish grin, the kind that turns up slightly on one side as he tilts his head. The action that makes produces dimples and makes me swoon.”

“You fainted,' Tom said.Reg coughed.No, I didn't,' he said. 'Women faint. People afraid of needles faint. Men black out.”

“I suppose she chose me because she knew my name; as I read the alphabet a faint line appeared between her eyebrows, and after making me read most of My First Reader and the stock-market quotations from The Mobile Register aloud, she discovered that I was literate and looked at me with more than faint distaste. Miss Caroline told me to tell my father not to teach me any more, it would interfere with my reading.”

“Tatooine, huh? So awesome you know Star Wars facts,” he adds nodding. “Do you ever watch the animated stuff?” Grin. Grin. Grin. I'm seriously at risk of an old-style faint. Holy-WTHECK? My neck and cheeks are volcano-hot. My entire chest swarms with an uncontrollable butterfly attack. Butterfly riot. Butterfly massacre. Person slaughtered: Me. Method used: Dimple. The guy has a dimple. Of course he does. To match the Hollywood chin divot. To make the lump on my forehead pound even harder. Points for Gray Porter: 3,000,000-bajallion, trillion to the millionth power.”