‘Charlie, I love you. Not some girl from the bar. Not some girl who spends more time dying her hair than having an actual conversation. I want you. ... want the vodka-drinking painter who has insomnia. I want the girl whose OCD only allows her to keep liquids on the top shelf of the refrigerator. I want the girl who wears Mr. Bubble t-shirts and watches bad 80s movies with me. I only want you. I love you!’ By the time Nathan was done with his romantic if not irritated tirade, Charlie was sniffing. In the meantime I would have 2 months of summer to relax. s*s was also going to put her skills to use at UCSB, as a researcher, and we had agreed to share an apartment in the area beginning in September to save on expenses. After a leisurely breakfast, I decided to hit the pool in the back of the house for some laps. I was just completing a warm-up set of 8 laps when Amelie arrived home. I was so wrapped up in my swimming that I didn’t hear s*s approach."Hey, b*o!" she called out playfully.. More

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