What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
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Ed Sheeran ft. H.E.R. - I Don't Want Your Money.
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WE DIDN'TTECHNICALLYWANT to swim. Toodles didn't actually want to go potty, so nobody—or nothing—used Mr. Ash's toilet. I just wanted to make him angry, and boy did it work. I think he even replaced his toilet too, because I saw some guys with a new WC and other plumbing equipment going into his room this morning.
I shut my door behind me and told my friends. We literally laughed our butts off. Amara was showering when I relayed the information—she tripped and fell from how hard she was laughing.
After I got the car keys from Mr. Ash—and got really super horny because of what he said and did to me—we went on the best late night car rides of our lives. There's just something about goofing around in an expensive car that's not yours...until tragedy befalls, that is.
I honestly didn't wreck his car on purpose. I might have let Toodles claw on the leather seats, but I did not intentionally wreck his car.
Sandra did, and it was purely unintentional.
Everyone in the car gasped loudly and a twenty-second moment of silence ensued in the space of the sleek Aston Martin after Sandra drunkenly scratched the side of my ex-boss's car on another car parked by the roadside.
So much for knowing how to parallel park.
All she did after the twenty-second pause was turn down the volume of Billy Jean blasting through the speakers and burst into laughter.
I wanted to strangle her—after laughing, that is. Partly, I also wanted to throw Toodles outside the car window and run him over three good times, because it was both their faults.
I asked her...I mean, I asked her countless times if she could drive properly after having half a bottle of vodka and she said yes.
And I asked her to leave Toodles at home, but she declined. She said no.
She was also the one who brought up the idea of taking Mr. Ash's car for a late night ride to Starbucks Coffee and McDonald's.
Every tragedy that befell us last night was Sandra's fault.
The only good things I got out of agreeing to her stupid idea were: One, ten bucks from Vanessa after she lost our bet. Two, the look of irritation on Mr. Ash's face each time I threw his office door open. And three, a slightly damp underwear. Thank God I didn't forgo panties when I was dressing up for the sleepover, although I tossed my bra aside.
