“UGH, I’m sooooo hungry!” Patrick moaned as he picked up the phone for his, what, 12th interview of the day? This was the last one. A 15-minute call to New Zealand. And then they could go eat.
“There needs to be a rule,” Elisa said, sitting cross-legged on the couch next to her boyfriend while he dialed in, her hands animating her words while she talked. “Dinner is to be eaten between 5 and 7 p.m. and no later. Any meal eaten after the allotted time must be a fourth meal.”
“I swear if they ask one more question about Pete I’m gonna straight up hang up,” Patrick said.
“No, that’s mean.”
“You know,” Elisa said, leaning back into the couch with a devious smirk on her lips, “I could totally get you out of this interview in 5 minutes. Want me to?”
“No, it’s okay,” Patrick replied, apologetically. “It’s just 15 minutes and then we can go.”
Just then, the low-pitched voice of a woman emerged from the other line. “Thank you, Albert,” the voice said, referring to the strange man who connected the conference call. “Okay, bye. Hello Patrick?”
Patrick set her on speaker. “Hi,” he greeted.
“Hi, how are you?”
“I’m good, how are you?”
“I’m good, I’m just wondering where Albert is –”
Oh boy. Patrick rolled his eyes. Elisa dropped her head in her hands.
This one definitely wasn’t going to be about the music. Not about the inspiration behind Folie a Deux. No, this was gonna be one of those interviews.
Just play along with it, Patrick told himself, as the conversation floated topics from “people who answer conference calls” to “rock stars’ punctuality.” The interviewer’s voice – really getting on Elisa’s nerves. She listened as the talk continued on, now focusing on her boyfriend’s penchant for being late or forgetting about scheduled appointments. Suddenly, Elisa got an idea.
“Can you laugh and say you have to go?” she blurted aloud.
“Oh! Who was that?” the interviewer reacted.
Patrick glared at Elisa with wide eyes, pointing furiously at the phone to remind her they were on speaker. “Oh no, my girlfriend’s…wondering when all the interviews are gonna be over,” he chuckled nervously.
“It’s seven!” Elisa chimed, moving closer to the speaker so the radio could pick up her voice.
“Wow, she’s got you ‘round her little fingah!” the interviewer responded. “When are we going, honey?”
“The train does not wait!” Elisa continued. She fell backward into the sofa, giggling maniacally, her hands over her mouth to suppress her laughter.
There was no train.
Patrick covered the speaker with his hand and pursed his lips at her. “Behave yourself,” he mouthed.
Elisa lay on the couch, attempting controlled inhales and exhales to calm down as the interview went on. The next few questions weren’t so bad. What is the best job you’ve ever had outside of rock ‘n’ roll? What do you love about New Zealand? This was good. As long as she didn’t ask about –
“With Pete Wentz being your mate and everything, what is it like hanging out, is he really that pretty in real life…?”
There it was. No. That’s it. It’s over.
“Okay, we’re leaving!” Elisa exclaimed. Loud enough for the speaker. Loud enough for the interviewer to react.
Patrick froze. He placed his hand over the speaker and looked at Elisa. “We’re going,” he whispered.
“Hmm?” Elisa perked, her brown eyes brightening.
“I’m seriously letting you go now because your girlfriend has really frightened me, so I’m going to let you go to dinner – ” the interviewer said. Boom.
Patrick blushed, his eyes wandering toward the clock. 7:05. Five minutes. Elisa did it. “Fair enough,” he laughed.
And the crew hung up. Patrick looked up at his crazy girlfriend, who was already standing, hands raised in the air, hips shaking awkwardly – yet shamelessly – in a victory dance.
“You know that got recorded,” Patrick said. “You know that’s probably gonna go on the internet and everyone is gonna hate you forever.”
“Oh, let ‘em hate,” Elisa smiled. “It fuels me.” And she kept dancing.
Patrick shook his head and sighed as he stood to his feet. Elisa grabbed his hand and led him out the door, her sweet yet sinister voice singing, “I! Don’t! Care what you think as long as it’s abouuut meee…”
I got a request to expand Thinner so here is bonus part to the story
“Alright Jungkook, I want you to know that everything I’m about to say is not in any way judging or criticizing you okay?” Dr. Ahn stated, “These are just facts about your current condition.”
Jungkook took a deep breath and nodded, he had just gone through a physical exam with Dr. Ahn and now he was in the Dr.’s office with his manager and his fellow members. Jungkook was tense; he now understood how dangerous he was treating his body but he still wanted to be thin.
“Okay, so you are were in the beginning stages of creating an eating disorder by going on a drastic crash diet and extreme exercise. When I examined you, I found that you had low blood pressure, an erratic heartbeat, and the blood test revealed that you’re blood count was abnormal.”
“You said that one he start’s to eat healthier though that it would get better.” Manager said confused.
“Well, it is getting better but there should have been more improvement,” Dr. Ahn sighed, “And that means Jungkook hasn’t been completely following his treatment.”
Jungkook sunk down in his seat, ashamed. He thought if he cheated a little bit, the doctor wouldn’t notice.
“Jungkook, do you understand what could happen to you if you continue to have this lifestyle?” Dr. Ahn calmly stated, “You could have a heart attack or brain damage; when you body doesn’t receive that right nutrition it start to shut down the body in an attempt to conserve energy.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook whispered.
“Don’t be sorry about it,” Dr. Ahn told him kindly, “Please, eat what you are supposed to.”
“Jungkook, you promised you’d listen to us and would eat.” Manager scolded.
“I tried!” Jungkook trembled, “I really do try, and I am eating, it’s just hard.”
“Okay, that’s alright,” Dr. Ahn mediated, “It’s difficult and we should expect some bumps in the road, okay? I’m going to prescribe you some medication for anxiety and a list of how much of each food group I want you to eat daily.”
Jungkook glanced over at his hyungs, he was currently at the dinner table, waiting patiently for Jin to come out with the food. It had been pretty quiet the ride back from the doctor and nobody had said much at the table either. Jin came in and set down the food in the center of the table. Everyone began to spoon the food onto their own respective plate. Jin grabbed Jungkook’s plate and began to spoon the food onto the plate.
“Eat all of it, please.” Jin told him, “I want you to at least try.”
“No he’s going to do more than try.” Namjoon looked at Jungkook, “You’re going to eat all of it, understood?”
Jungkook nodded even though he felt frustration in his chest. He picked up his chopsticks and slowly brought them to his mouth. He felt six pairs of eyes on him as he ate.
As the other members quickly finished there servings and were clearing the table, Jungkook still had about half of his plate left. Jungkook watched as his hyungs were dispersing about to do what they wanted for the chance to get rid of his food.
“Don’t even think about it.” Yoongi startled Jungkook out of his thoughts.
Yoongi appeared from the kitchen doorway and sat down at the table next to Jungkook. He had brought a notebook and his cell phone.
“You’re going to stay at the table until you finish your supper,” Yoongi said, “And I am going to be with you the entire time.”
Jungkook’s jaw dropped.
“Eat.” Yoongi demanded, “No tricks, no bullshit.”
Jungkook sighed and began to eat once again.
“Hyung I can’t.”
“Yes you can.”
“No I can’t!”
Yoongi sighed and glanced at the clock on his phone, it had been two hours since they had sat down to eat and Jungkook had a fourth of the meal left on his plate. Jungkook had already attempted to call it quits earlier but Yoongi had held firm.
“You only have a little more left.” Yoongi encouraged.
“I’m full.” Jungkook whined.
“Will you eat it if I heat it up for you?” Jin asked, he had sat down with them around a half hour ago.
“No. It’s cold because he wouldn’t eat.” Yoongi scowled, “This is what he gets.”
“I’m not hungry!” Jungkook glared.
“You aren’t getting up from the table,” Yoongi stated, “We can stay here all night and tomorrow if that’s what you want.”
Reluctantly Jungkook finally began to finish his supper. He set down his chopsticks on the now clean plate.
“Good job Kookie!” Jin exclaimed, “I’m really proud of you!”
“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked.
Jungkook felt the tears on his face as his lips trembled.
“C’mon.” Jin grabbed his hands and pulled him into the living room. He sat Jungkook down on the couch next to him.
“What is it?” Yoongi asked again.
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook cried, “I feel terrible.”
“You did fine Kookie.” Jin patted his back, “You’re doing really good okay?”
“No I’m not!” Jungkook bawled.
“Stop crying.” Namjoon entered the room and sat on the other side of him, “There is no reason for you to be crying, you are getting better and doing a great job.”
“I’m a burden to you all,” Jungkook said, “I feeling like all I do is fight with you and I feel so alone and I don’t understand why.”
Taehyung and Jimin then decided to burst into the living room, quite obviously listening from the bedroom door. Jimin swooped down and hugged Jungkook tightly.
“Kookie you’re never alone.” Jimin exclaimed, “I promise you are never alone.”
Wow, guys! I wasn’t expecting my post on underfeeding to get so many notes, since I’m so new to this part of tumblr. It makes me so happy that people are becoming more aware of what their fish’s bodies look like because of me. Thanks to everyone who helped share it around.
This is a kind of part two, you could say. Some people have come forward confused about how much to feed their betta, and I wanted to offer one frame of reference to the discussion. I’ll be using pellets as an example, although it’s also really good to vary the diet with frozen, live, and the occasional freeze dried food. For simplicity sake, we’ll be talking about a non bloodworm/mysis/ect day, with pellets for both feedings.
Firstly, I’ve seen many people say they only feed their betta 2 pellets a day, once a day. I can’t say this is wrong for them, since I don’t know their fish and I don’t know if they’re feeding them other things at other times. If their fish maintains a healthy weight and is active and well on 2 pellets a day, then they’re doing good. But for me, 2 pellets a day and nothing else, with one fasting day a week, is what killed one of my boys and severely weakened another.
I have four bettas, now. All male, all different sizes and temperments, and all with different portion needs.
My smallest is Wisp, an elephant ear with gigantic fins who swims a lot, but not very fast and with lots of breaks to rest his huge pectorals. He’s tiny. I usually give him 1-3 pellets twice a day. 2 pellets twice a day is the norm, but he’s been slender since I got him and that 3rd pellet every now and then helps him grow stronger.
Next is Drake, who is not the second smallest, but is the second calmest. He does a lot of meandering, doesn’t like to flare a lot, and has a slower metabolism. He’s active and curious, he’s just calm. He gets usually 2-4 pellets twice a day. 3 in the morning and 2 in the evening is normal for him.
Imp is smaller than Drake, but he’s a lot more high strung. Swims faster, patrols more, flares at everything. He uses more energy and his metabolism is faster. This guy goes through 3-4 pellets twice daily. Usually 3 and 3 with an occasional fourth for one meal.
Lastly is Pride, the new plakat boy. He’s a pretty big fish, nowhere near a king, but he could probably eat Wisp. He swims fast, and he swims a LOT. His rest breaks are short. Being so big and burning all that energy means he usually gets 4 pellets in the morning and 3 or 4 in the evening.
The breakdown. On non bloodworm days, my boys get a total of:
If I fed Wisp as much as Pride, he’d explode. And vice versa, Pride would lose a lot of weight. So how do you figure out how much to feed them if there isn’t a magic number?
I used bettatalk.com/food.htm as a reference. I don’t follow everything typed on there, as the “2 minute rule” is awful, but the images are helpful. In fact I pretty much ONLY care for the images. This page has photos of fish and shows what their bellies should look like right after eating. You can see what they look like overfed and “slightly overfed but still okay.”
I feed my fish to get a certain tummy size after eating. That way I can adjust as I go to meet their needs, and I don’t have to worry too much on the “perfect” amount to feed every day. This also helps me get more in tune with each of my betta’s metabolisms and digestive issues, so I’m quicker to spot things that are out of whack. I really prefer this more intuitive feeding method over using a set number or amount every day, since it makes me stop and look at my fish and really think about their individual needs. You may be quicker to notice early signs of other health issues too, since you’re looking closely every day.
As a kind of exception to the rule, though, underweight bettas will look “overfed bloated” much sooner than they would at their optimal weight because the ratio of their full tummy to their skinnier tail is going to be a lot more dramatic than that same amount of food would look with their body filled out.
The main idea here though is, learn how much your betta needs to eat and tailor his or her diet. You can always adjust it as you go if it needs change. But bettas come in many different sizes and metabolisms and temperments, just like other animals, and your mileage is absolutely going to vary from other fishkeepers. The most most MOST important thing here is to be mindful of your fish’s needs. Start thinking about how big or small they are, if they need an extra bloodworm or two per feeding until they’re back at that good size, or if one needs to be cut back. I wanted to start this conversation to get these images on people’s minds, so that they’d start noticing things they weren’t trained to look for before. Hopefully this follow-up is helpful for many people.
Thank you for reading, and best of luck on your fishkeeping journeys!
Beca is a famous musician/producer (really, we all knew it was going to happen), and Chloe’s America’s sweetheart as the host of a reality dance show. After four years at Barden denying that they were hopelessly in love, Beca’s having a hard time accepting the media’s refusal to acknowledge their relationship.
The driver pulled away from the Taco Bell take-out window, and Beca reached into the paper bag as her phone lit up with texts.
“You couldn’t have been a little less crude, Becs?” Chloe finally said between bites of their fourth meal. Her phone was lighting up too; the Bellas all seemed to have something to say about Beca’s little confession. “Like, you didn’t think your undying love for me was maybe better press material?”
Beca rolled her eyes, picking up a piece of lettuce that had fallen on the seat cushions and eating it. “Chlo, that wouldn’t have worked. I mean, I’m not even sure the whole sex comment worked, to be honest. By tomorrow the headlines will read: ‘Mitchell Dishes on Her Fav Sleepover Games with Buddy Beale’. We honestly have nothing to worry about.”
Liam: He just had enough energy to reach for the phone after the havoc you two just caused. He surprised you for a weekend in Paris and to be honest, you hadn’t done much more than see the inside of the hotel room and how sexy Liam looked against satin sheets when he was falling apart beneath you. You were beside him, your hand running down his abs as you caught your breath. He caught your hand and nipped at your fingers playfully. “Baby, I need food,” you grinned, your mouth latching into his chest. You didn’t want food, you wanted Liam. He groaned and rolled over as he pinned you beneath him. “Food first,” he said nipping your neck. You wrapped your arms around him, your bare chest rubbing against his. “No Liam,” you said licking into his mouth, “me.” He laughed at how insatiable you had been. Two days in Paris and all you’d done was go to dinner and drink too much wine. “Minx,” he pinched your bum and picked up the phone, ordering dinner in some rusty French-but it still had you licking your lips with desire. He didn’t realize how sexy he even was which drove you even more mad. As soon as you’d gotten him alone in the room, you’d tackled him onto the bed wasting no time in ruining his best shirt by ripping it open, buttons rolling across the floor. He didn’t mind that he wasn’t able to tour Paris like a proper tourist. He’d be more than happy to lay in bed with you for a week and learn how your skin looked in the slight changing in the suns rays. He already noticed how in the morning your skin looked bronze, as if the sun had warmed you. But at night, you were the softest, purest porcelain. As Liam rolled back over, his hand grabbing your ass, he thought that Paris could never offer a sight nearly as beautiful as you.
Harry: He stumbled back into the room, your hand in his. A laugh was dying on his lips as he removed his jacket and toed off his shoes. He had the idea to spend the weekend in New York and seeing as many shows as he possibly could while he was there. So far, you’d seen four and you loved each one. He took you out for ridiculous dinners and spent hundreds of dollars in wine that was either too sweet or too dry, he didn’t care. He was with you. He’d blown way too much money, but he was making memories with you that would last for his whole life. What was a grand to him when he saw you smile all day? You’d just seen Wicked and you were still laughing, surprised to find how much you enjoyed it. You were both a little bit tipsy, the wine from dinner and the show taking an effect. He fell back onto the bed, his body bouncing once as the mattress caught him. “I am so drunk,” he giggled, his handsome features flushed and his lips perfectly pink. You fell on top of him, your mouth latching onto his. You swallowed his sighs, his long fingers tangling in your hair as you rubbed against him. “We need more wine,” he laughed as your fingers tickled his ribs. “Yes we do,” you rolled over him and grabbed for the phone but he grabbed your ankle, pulling you back down the bed. “I want to call,” he pouted like a child. He climbed over you, his body pinning yours to the bed as he reached for the phone. He ordered two bottles of wine then raked his eyes down yours. “And if you have it, chocolate cake,” you moaned as he hung up the phone, his playful lips on your neck. “I’m gunna get you good and drunk and take advantage of you all night,” he said nibbling your lower lip. You grinned, rolling over and drilling him into the mattress. “Not if I beat you too it,” you smirked leaning down as your lips captured his,
Zayn: He woke before you, rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes. You’d been up late, doing everything but sleeping and he was famished. He looked at you spread beside him, your hair like a waterfall on the pillow. He grinned, remembering how your hair had been wrapped around his fist last night. He’d exhausted you out, just like you’d exhausted him. He’d taken you to the beach for the weekend and Zayn didn’t exactly plan on how frustrating it would be to see you in a tiny little bikini or how sensual it would be for him to rub sunscreen on his back. He was going crazy watching the water droplets roll of your body, clinging to your lashes and lips that just begged for his attention, and he’d been more than happy to oblige. Zayn didn’t even make it out the front door before he was untying the strings on your back so the top fell away and his hands were running over your skin. He shook his head, his voice husky as he placed an order for breakfast. Slowly, he ran his lips over your neck and down your collar bone. It wasn’t often he got to take his time and feel the texture of your skin under his lips, but now he did. “Wake up, sleepy head,” he said with his smoke voice. You stretched, your muscles feeling ridiculously well used and put to the test. You gaze him a lazy smile as his lips kissed your belly button, his long painter’s fingers tracing your skin. “I ordered breakfast,” he said between kisses. You smiled, your fingers running through his hair as he looked up at you. You ate together, feeding each other french toast and french fruit along with mimosas. “This is the best vacation ever,” he said after a sip of coffee. “What? Why? We haven’t done anything?” With a devilish look in his eye, he flipped you over and pinned you to the bed. “I’ve done you,” he said suggestively, “which makes it the best,” with that his lips fastened back to yours.
Niall: When he saw an opportunity to be romantic, he took it. He had called room service before you left, making sure that when you returned there would be chilled champagne, chocolate covered straw berries and roses on the bed. He’d taken you to New York, wanting to see what the fuss was all about with Broadway. You’d made him see Phantom of the Opera, claiming it was your favorite play. He was happy to go if it made you happy, and you showed him all around the city. Of course you spent more time getting lost than actually seeing anything, but Niall didn’t mind. He was more than happy to walk the busy streets with your hand in his, stumbling across something wonderful. But if he could have a say in the wonderful that could happen, he would take it. “Did you like it?” You asked as you reached the room, your back against the door as he grabbed the key out of his pocket. His blue eyes were happy as they looked at you, his pretty pink lips tugged into a grin. “I did, baby, it’s was a great show.” You squinted at him trying to figure out of he was serious or not. “Really?” you asked skeptically. “Yes baby,” he said kissing your lips sweetly. He unlocked the door, pushing you both inside without taking his lips from yours. He pulled back and turned you around, pleased to see the candles, champagne and roses to his exact specifications. “Holy crap, Ni,” you said walking further into the room. He smiled, watching you lift the ridiculously expensive bottle of champagne from the bucket. He poured you both a glass and lifted his in a toast. “To many more memories and many more moments of taking your breath away,” he teased, clinking his glass to yours. You took a sip and grabbed a strawberry, but Niall pulled you to the bed. He needed to see what your skin looked like against rose petals. “I love you,” he said softly, your eyes like stars as you looked up at him. With a smile, you pulled him down on top of you, making the most of the candle lit night he had provided.
Louis: To Louis, ice cream at two a.m. was the best decision he could have made. Honestly, what could be better. He was starving, having stayed up all night with you talking and laughing. You were supposed to see a movie tonight, but you’d both blown off the showing you had picked. He called room service instead around 1:30, ordering two sundae’s off the menu. Neither of you had gotten out of bed all day, and this was the fourth meal they had delivered to the room, but they couldn’t complain with how well Louis tipped. “This was a good idea,” you said around bites, your lips covered in chocolate. He leaned forward and kissed the chocolate from your lips, a murmur of approval leaving how own mouth as he pulled away. “And you taste delicious,” his eyes darkened and you batted his hand away as it crept up your thigh. “It’s your turn,” you reminded him, placing a dot of whip cream on his nose. He wiped it away saying, “Okay fine. I hated that my teachers said I wouldn’t amount to anything,” he admitted, eyes on his ice cream. You and Louis had spent the day sharing secrets that you didn’t yet know about each other. It was wonderful to fall back in the sheets with him, his fingers running over your skin as yours traced his tattoos. It was wonderful hearing him laugh and seeing him well rested. “Proved them wrong,” you winked, pecking him on the lips. “I’ll say. Look at the girl I’m dating, you’re the best thing I’ve ever done” he said, his fingers hooking under your chin to keep you closer. “Lou,” you said truly taken aback. He smiled, forking more ice cream into his mouth. He wasn’t always sentimental, but he figured there was no time like now when he had you locked away and all to himself. “Best thing that has happened to me or will ever happen to me,” he said again, his hand taking yours.
In the parent series, we speculate about what kinds of parents Bleach characters would make, based entirely on their behavior in Bleach. But what about me, Bleach Lists Girl (BLG)? If I became a parent, what - based on my blog - sort of parent would I be?
1. Everything would be done according to a schedule.
Because I tend to be slightly too enthusiastic about my blog’s schedule.
BLG: Meals will be served every six hours, 24 hours a day!
Kid: Okay but counter idea - waking up to eat a fourth meal at midnight is super weird.
BLG: But it’s a schedule
2. I would enjoy doing (a limited number of) favors for my kids.
This blog is almost entirely list-based, and so is basically me fulfilling requests from followers. Naturally, as a parent, I would enjoy fulfilling my kids’ requests - up to a point. ‘Cause, you know, only three favors a day. Any more would be weird.
Kid: Mom! Can you help me braid my hair?
BLG: Sorry! I already accepted three other requests today, so…
BLG: B-but maybe I could make an exception just this once!
3. There would be a bit too much apologizing
I admittedly spend a lot of time apologizing for times when I, say, can’t write a list that day.
BLG: I am SO SORRY that I didn’t make a broccoli casserole as I promised!
Kid (eating the pizzas that was just delivered): Yes, my heart is weeping with sadness.
BLG: I KNEW IT
4. All of my answers would be too long
Kids like to ask questions. But my answers to those questions? Slightly too long.
Kid: Mom, why is the sky blue?
BLG: Hmm….let me see if I can come up with ten possible answers…
Kid: Or we could look it up on the internet.
BLG: It’s cute that you think the truth is more important than a list.
5. I would show my love by teasing my kids
‘Cause when it comes to Bleach characters, you can tell which ones I like the best by how much I make fun of them.
Other kid: Oh? Did your mom leave a note in your lunch box? What does it say?
Kid: It told me to be careful that I don’t poke myself in the eye with my string cheese.
Kid: I did that ONE TIME like THREE YEARS AGO
Kid: BUT SHE WON’T STOP MAKING JOKES ABOUT IT
6. I would encourage them to fight.
B-because fights are so cool….I mostly watch Bleach for the fights…
Kid: And I’m so afraid that high school will have bullies!
BLG: I understand.
BLG: And that’s why I got you this GIANT AND VERY SHARP SWORD
Kid: Mom no
BLG: Mom yes!
7. I would have their lives planned too far in advance
Much like my blog schedule is planned out down to the hour far in advance.
BLG: And at 2pm on the first Tuesday of next month, you will eat pizza.
Kid: Uh, maybe. I guess.
BLG: Um I have it written down so it’s definitely happening.
8. I would always be up for letting my kids talk about their crushes
Since a lot of my blog is devoted to shipping lists.
BLG: So! Who are you thinking of asking to the dance?
Kid: If I tell you, are you going to come up with extended scenarios about how the entire relationship might go?
BLG: Yes. Yes I will.
9. I would sometimes be less serious than I should be
I write a humor blog, and even when the topic is, say, a character dying, I try my hardest to make it funny.
Kid: Mom…the class bunny, Mr. Floof-Fluff, died today.
BLG: I see.
BLG: So it’s a black humor sort of thing, then?
Kid: MR. FLOOF-FLUFF’S DEATH IS NOT A JOKING MATTER, MOM
I seriously am nibbling on food 99% of the time I’m awake. So here is me. In my natural state.
So this morning I went back and reviewed my goals for this week- AND I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT ONE OF THEM! I wanted to list five things that I love about me or about my day each night on here. So here I go.
I loved my bicep workout/pump today!
I love my new nail polish.
I love that when Im on my grind trying to reach my goals- I try to pull as many people up with me.
It started when she saw him smoking. Emma loathed the habit, hating the smell and rather dire health consequences. Seeing Hook leaning against the brick outside Granny’s, she had to admit she had a thing for him and the vice. Maybe it was the way he rolled the cigarette between his fingers after every drag. Maybe it was the careless way he brought it to his lips, inhaling and exhaling as though he’d done it all his life. Maybe she just liked watching his mouth move.
The second time she saw him outside Granny’s, she was tempted to wander over and educate him on the many associated risks. But a smirk from his direction and the casual flick of his fingers made the heat creep up her thighs and sent her running inside.