“And this bad-boy boyfriend?”“Bad boy?”“Yeah. The type you apparently avoid now.”Oh, right.” I laugh. It’s one single bark of bitterness. “Ummm, he fell into a wood chipper?”“Poor guy. And the one before that?”“Eaten by a shark?”“And before that?”“Kidnapped by a travelling circus?”He chuckles. “Wow. Your life’s like a cautionary tale.”“Future suitors be warned.”“I’m willing to take my chances,” he says with a wink.”

“It's becoming apparent that I like bad boys. That's one of my problems. They've all been bad boys. You're one too. You're a bad boy. But, I think you're a good bad boy.”

“He was the bad boy type all right. The type my mother warned me about. the type you have a good time with, then forget about as you go home to live your boring life, while he moves on to the next skirt ready to give him the time of day.”

“I'm skipping, but Cam doesn't have a class until this afternoon, so he's a good boy.""And your a bad boy?""Oh, I'm a bad, bad boy.""Yeah, as in bad at spelling, math, english, cleaning up after yourself, talking to people, and I could go on.”

“What now?”“You’ve never ridden a motorcycle before?”“Nope.”“What kind of bad-boy girlfriend are you?” I ask in mock dismay.“Evidently a terrible one.”I swing onto the bike and grab my only helmet. “Nah, you just haven’t met the right bad-boy.”

“This one swears like a trooper-- he's a bad boy.”