She feels the preternatural fingernails tracing lightly down her chin to the front laces of her corset, the sharp nails easily slicing through the silky ribbon like a razor without so much as scratching the girl’s soft living skin. XXX Gimme your cellphone.”
“I don’t have it, it isn’t period!”
“My god…fine. “Like the cor?” he says, grinning like the cat that caught the canary, his frat-boy voice obnoxiously turning his As into Os as he loses himself in her amazing cleavage. “Whatever Zoe, it’s your afterlife. I can’t believe they gave you shit about your fake ID, it’s not like one more year matters anyway.”
“Not when you are as timeless as we,” Becky recites as though quoting poetry.
