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“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind”

—Williaht’s Dream

Jolie Louis is a sirl

She knows that her best friend, Gabe Poirier, is a bad idea

He’s a walking, talking cliché The Adonis quarterback with the bulging biceps and hare behind hiet rid of

Sadly, that’s also the reason she can’t stay away from him Well, that and the fact that they’re roommates

Jolie is already straddling the line between friendship and e coirlfriend and live for free for the rest of the semester

She tells herself that she can handle it

He’s just the boy she saved ten years ago, right?

Wrong So very wrong

He is a man now, and she is his captive

Heart, body, and soul…

Ten years ago

On the eighth night, she decided to talk to him

Eight nights since the Poiriers had waltzed into her life, occupying the house next door

Eight nights in which the screa of Mrs Poirier and the roars of her husband pierced Jolie’s ears, trickled into her soul, and left her trerandmama had made for her

Eight nights in which their kid—about her age, ten or eleven—stu out in every direction and his chest heaving with uneven breaths