Bicycle Rescue (Sydney Hail, Charles Dera)

Bicycle Rescue (Sydney Hail, Charles Dera) “No. As someone who spent most of her time indoors reading and maintaining a rigorous skincare routine, she was almost translucent with a flawless complexion that probably needed to be studied by some kind of scientific organization. While I loved Jessica, she wouldn’t be cast as a runway model, which was totally fine with me. It sucks ninety-eight percent of the time, but that two percent of the time?” Dillon gave a chef’s kiss. “Jess,” I said, my tone softening to simple desperation. The concept made me feel small. Her eyes dropped to the mattress, so I could no longer see directly into them, but I could hear how upset she was. Did I walk out the door, and you just happened to meet the guy on the same day? “No. “I thought about it. “There’s sixty-something dollars in the side drawer. “Yeah. “You were going to ask me?”

“To marry me, yeah,” I said, donning my socks and shoes. “Oh,” I called out. I couldn’t look at her.”

“You want me to call my uncle? It was a good childhood. He’d probably tell me to get over it and remind me that I’m a fish in one of the biggest ponds in the States. I sat at my small table alone for the next ten minutes finishing my coffee and mulling over Dillon’s words. He’d probably tell me to get over it and remind me that I’m a fish in one of the biggest ponds in the States. Everything alright?” He asked, his tone taking on a note of concern. I tightened my grip on her throat