Bạn đã ở bữa tiệc vào tối thứ Sáu, không phải bạn sao? . “Aye.” Aye? Nghiêm túc? Anh ấy có thể nóng hơn không? cô ấy, “nóng lại.
You were at the party on Friday night, weren’t you?” I didn’t mentioned I’d followed him into the woods.He leaned back in his chair, his legs sprawled out. His boots nudged the bottom ruffle of my skirt. “Aye.”Aye? Seriously? Could he be any hotter?Unless he had been looking for his girlfriend at the party.Not hot.”I was supposed to meet my cousin,” he elaborated, “but I didn’t find her,”Hot again.
Michael McGirr, The Lost Art of Sleep