Sydney Bell személy

I was in love with my best friend.
And it could be worse, I guessed. I could have been in love with a male stripper or a drug addict. Kyler Quinn was neither of those things. Although he could easily be passed off as a male stripper with those jaw-dropping good looks and messy brown hair, and he was as addictive as any drug out there.

Sydney was perfect—the actual embodiment of the perfect woman. She was practically pristine and fresh. She was untouchable.
She was everything to me.

Lusting after Kyler was only going to end one way: a broken heart.
And a whole lot of sexual frustration.

You’re perfect—”

“Just the way I am?” I finished for him. “Isn’t that from Bridget Jones?”

“Maybe.” One side of his lips tipped up.

“You are such a vagina.”