Rucy Ban

Mom lies down next to me and we both stare at the ceiling in complete silence. __oys are like candy,_ she suddenly says. I grin. __eally, Mom? That__ your advice? Boys are like candy. What is that? Forrest Gump on teens?

Never make eye contact with a stranger when you__e having a churro.

Guys like him? They were the worst kind. All looks and no heart. Guys not like him? They were all deceiving, freaking asshats.

Neil Mars?! I could blame him for having killer looks but he could not be faulted for this. He couldn__ have chosen that name for himself._No wonder he tortures his Mom by calling her by her name.

After a few seconds of scraping, I_realize_what he has isn__ a trail, it__ a whole forest! Ack! Weren__ all men supposed to shave their chest and stuff nowadays? Whatever happened to having fuzz-free Hollywood heroes as role models? At least my embarrassment is completely foregone by the irritation at his lack of upkeep._The only thing distracting me now is that heady mix of musk, shaving cream and a distinctly_male scent. And God knows that is one seriously_jeopardizing_distraction. Especially with a whizzing needle in one__ hand.

Breathless I look up at him and find him gazing at me with a wonder that my deep-seated insecurity finds hard to believe. Then he does this thing. His fingers start moving on my face, tracing outlines. They trail along my eyebrows, the ridge of my nose, the apple of my cheeks and the line of my jaw. His touch is like feather but his eyes_they blaze and just like that, without saying a single word, he makes me believe.

You know when you mix butt and Angel in the same sentence, it becomes an insult,_ I say and take a big gulp from the can. With his back to me, he says, __rust me, I would never dream of insulting your butt. I__ sure it__ better than anything I__ cooking out here.