S.T. Abby

I thought love would rip my heart out.

I thought it would set me on fire.

Instead, it turned me into ice.

I put my lips against her ear and whisper, “Happy anniversary, baby.”

When anger rises, think of the consequences.

Annnnd I’m back to being two steps away from that name tattoo on my ass.

“You want me to tell you about how I broke my vibrator this morning?”

I swerve the car, cursing as a horn blares.

Logan’s hand that’s on me slides down to my spandex-clad ass, and he rests it there, as though he’s proving a point. He’s cute when he’s jealous.

When anger rises, think of the consequences.

—Confucius

I’d kill a bitch for Jake.

I snort indignantly, then laugh into the pillow, feeling him smile against my cheek as he kisses it again.

When anger rises, think of the consequences.