I’m not supposed to think about Austin.
And for the most part, I don’t.
But occasionally, when I remember him in a towel in his living room, playfully teasing me, I have to stop, relish the memory, and write a blog post. 155 more words
For those of you who actually know me, you are probably in disbelief that I’m writing about this. Of all people, ME, yes, ME—the girl notorious for not following bar rules—is deciding to write about bar etiquette and the method to the madness I like to call surviving the night out. 1,062 more words
I will wait here as long as I can, making myself as small as possible in the darkness. My bare skin against the wall. I stripped down to my underwear and hid. 72 more words