The Girl in Seat 23 {l.r.h.}

three.

"Aw," Grazia cooed, "that's so sweet."

It was not! He thought I was another babe he could woo and hook up with. I was a babe, but not his babe. And let me tell you, not only was I a buzzkill, but I was stubborn. And a smart one, at that. No way was the not-so-great Rosalie Francino falling for a bad-boy rocker who'd be gone by sunrise.

Grazia frowned, slumping back in her seat. "And humble too," she muttered.

Poster child of America.

And so I looked that Hulk of a guard square in the eyes and said, "Take Mr. Hemmings a message from the girl in seat 23. Tell him that I am not giving away my telephone number frivolously like all these topless girls in the front row. If he wants me, he will earn me. Take me on a date. Meet my brother Joseph. Know my middle name. Learn my favorite color. Understand something more than my bra size." And away he went.

Grazia gasped. "No you didn't."

Oh, yes I did.

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Ok so whenever Grazia interrupts the story, it's in bold & Rosalie is speaking in plain text. Hopefully I made that clear enough. ~Laura :)