Mated To Valentine
Annabelle Writesma he's making eyes at medevil whispered in my earhe stares into my eyes deeplythat's his eager face
I whirl around to glare at him, but he just leans casually against a nearby tombstone, smirking.
“Something like that,” I mutter, turning back to the grave. “She and her little crew said I looked like crap, so I told her she didn’t exactly look impressive either.”
There’s a loud, theatrical hoot behind me.
“Well, well!” Valentine exclaims, clapping his hands. “North finally grows a spine! Shame it’s made of Styrofoam.”
I snap my head around. “Excuse me?”
“Come on,” he says, grinning. “That’s the best you could come up with? ‘You don’t look impressive’? She’s probably crying herself to sleep right now.”