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I want Scott to look at me the way Patch looks at you.

Becca Fitzpatrick

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Becca Fitzpatrick
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: February 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Centerville
Utah
Way
Patch
Scott
Patches
Look
Looks

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Right now, holding you, I feel like we have a shot at beating all odds and making it together.
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Just because I've gone and snagged myself a hot boyfriend doesn't mean I'm going to leave my bestfriend high and dry.
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...I need a boyfriend. And to get a boyfriend, you have to look good. Doesn’t hurt to smell good too.
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I turned my face up to his. I could hardly look at him the same way. I was crying without realizing I'd started. You made a deal with Hank. You saved my life. Why would you do that for me? Angel, he murmured, clasping my face between his hands. I don't think you understand the lengths I would go to if it means keeping you here with me.
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Try it on. It's probably a little snug, I said, suddenly feeling conspicuous. Marcie tends to buy down when it comes to sizing. He merely smiled. It has a slit up the thigh. His smile deepened.
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Being with you never felt wrong. It's the one thing I did right. You're the one thing I did right.
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You’re not going to drive me home?” I asked. A waste of breath, since I knew her answer. “There’s fog.” “Patchy fog.” Vee grinned. “Oh, boy. He is so on your mind. Not that I blame you. Personally, I’m hoping I dream about him tonight.
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Before I could stop myself, I punched his arm. “Careful,” he said in a low voice. “They might think we’re flirting.
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...Good, because I need your help. Help is my middle name. I was pretty sure she'd already told me bad was her middle name, but I kept my opinion to myself.
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The more time I spent with him, the more I knew the feelings weren't going away.
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The guy I've got my eye on happens to be hot. Off-the-charts hot. Hotter-than-Patch hot.' She paused. 'Well maybe not that hot. Nobody's that hot.
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Jev stroked his chin. Do I look like a summer fling?
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Rollover minutes don’t work with curfews.
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I need to get back to work,” Patch said. He gave me a once-over that lingered a bit below the hips. “Killer skirt. Deadly legs.
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Hate to disappoint, but no feathers. I came to Earth stripped naked.
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I had fun last night, I told Patch, flicking off my chin strap and handing over my helmet. I'm officially on love with your sheets. That the only thing you're in love with? Nope. Your mattress, too. Some smile crept into Patch's eyes. My bed's an open invitation.
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I’m doing boy detox. Like a diet, only for my emotional health.
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Patch? Whatever happens, I love you. I wanted to say more, those three words painfully inadequate for the way I felt about him. And at the same time, so simple and accurate, nothing else would do.
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Quit calling me Grey. It makes me sound like I’m a boy. Like Dorian Gray.” “Dorian who?” I sighed. “Just think up something else. Plain old Nora works too, you know.” “Sure thing, Gumdrop.” I grimaced. “I take that back. Let’s stick with Grey.
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I’m not going anywhere near a motel with you.
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