"That's not nice, Ivy." I grinned at her. "You know I can totally just kick your ass and take the coffee, right?" Val stuck out her lower lip. Like two-hundred degrees, but I was working tonight, and flipflops really weren't conducive to getting the job done or hiding the things necessary to get said job done. The reason I was probably sweating so much was because I was wearing lace-up boots that ended just below my knees and it was "Yeah, that sounds about right." Leaning back in my chair, I laughed as I kicked my legs onto the empty seat to my left, stretching out the muscles. "The correct response would be, 'I love you so much for getting me iced coffee that I'd do anything for you.'" She waggled her brows. "Can you point me in the right direction of what you want to hear? Play a game of hot and cold or something?" "While I love that game most of the time, I'm gonna pass." Lifting the iced coffee between us, she smiled broadly at me. I dropped my hands in my lap with a tired sigh. "Try again." "Thank you?" I wiggled my fingers toward the coffee. "Don't you have something else to add to that?" she asked. Between the months of April and November, the curl in my hair got lazy and turned into a frizzy wave.
Jennifer pavlov askew full#
No matter the level of humidity, her head full of corkscrew curls always looked great. In the sunlight, Val's hair had a burnt auburn sheen to it.
Sitting up straight, ignoring how the backs of my thighs stuck to the chair, I made grabby fingers at the iced coffee. If I wore any color other than black, tan, or gray, I looked like an asylum escapee. She looked as if she had stepped off a catalog featuring urban chic. Gravity, a purple necklace, and as I glanced down, I saw a turquoise peasant skirt. Like today, Val wore a loose, orange halter that defied
Jennifer pavlov askew skin#
A mix of Spanish and African heritage, Val had an absolutely beautiful skin tone, a rich and flawless shade of brown, and she looked awesome in bright oranges and blues and pinks and every freaking color of the rainbow. Valerie Adrieux plopped into the seat across from me, her hand like a claw on top of my iced coffee. "For you!" As I peered over the top of my sunglasses, my mouth watered like I was one of Pavlov's dogs. The small table rattled on its legs as a large iced coffee slammed down directly in front of my book. But oh no, that wasn't how Loyola rolled. It should be Philosophy of A Human Person.
I always thought the title of my class was missing an 'A' somewhere in there. A fat drop of sweat slipped from the tip of my nose and smacked off my Philosophy of Human Person text, leaving a little damp circle in the middle of a paragraph I could barely see through the sheen of sweat blinding me. It was so hot and sticky humid that I was seriously beginning to believe that New Orleans was one of the seven circles of hell and the outdoor seating area of the Palace Café was the gateway. I was pretty sure there was a waterfall of sweat coursing between my breasts, and that alone put my mood somewhere between slapping someone and pushing them in front of a trolley. My legs felt like I'd been sitting in a sauna. Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty One Chapter Twenty Two Chapter Twenty Three Acknowledgements About Jennifer L. Without you, this book wouldn't be possible. Armentrout # 1 New York Times and International Bestselling Author
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