CHAPTER NINETEEN
PERSONAL AND PRIVATE JOURNAL OF EMILY WILLIAMS
Note to self: really? Still no super-fabulous title for this? Must brain up a good title; else the book will never sell to Hollywood, and Chris “His Cheek Has Touched My Lips” Hemsworth will never star in it.
Fang called me after our little text flurry.
“I’m running a bit late, but I’ll be there in forty minutes, all right?”
“Okey-doke.”
“I take it that you’re feeling well enough to do all the carnal things that I suspect you’re planning?” he asked, his voice warm on my ear. “No hangover?”
“If I did have one—and I will admit to not feeling tip-top pippidy squeak, or whatever it is you British people say—then it would be a drugged hangover, not a too-much-booze hangover.”
“Now that you mention it, it is a bit odd that y
