“Surely my macking on some guy in an insane asylum wouldn't hurt him. He'd been living with his stalker, for heaven's sake.”

“Every night in my dreams, a man appeared from the darkest recesses of my mind, as if he'd been waiting for me to fall asleep. His mouth, full, masculine, would sear my flesh. His tongue, like flames across my skin, would send tiny sparks quaking through my body. Then he would dip south, and the heavens would open and a chorus singing hallelujah would ring out in perfect harmony.”

“He'd been in surgery for-like-ever, then in recovery, but they put him in a room because, despite the amount of blood loss, his wounds were no longer life threatening. "You here to get in my pants?" he asked."You're not wearing any pants," I reminded him. "You're wearing a girly gown with a built-in ass ventilator.”

“I was in a mental asylum? When the fuck did that happen?”

“He took a long draw then asked, “What’d I do?”“You knew about the guy threatening my dad?”He paused, shifted in his chair, so freaking busted, it wasn’t funny. “They told you?”“Why, no, Swopes, they didn’t. Instead, they waited until the guy knocked the fuck out of my dad and readied him for spaceflight with duct tape then tried to kill me with a butcher’s knife.”

“Where have you been?"I stepped into my apartment and met Uncle Bob's glare with one of my own. "Out trying to pass myself off as a movie producer to get hot guys to sleep with me. Where have you been?”

“What did one say to a stalker? Um, pardon me, Mr.Stalker, but could you, like, not?”